Tell England | Page 7

the least expenditure of water. But the natural
desire to win and to record good times meant that you were apt, in the
haste and enthusiasm of the moment, to miss the bath entirely, and to
flood quite a different part of the nursery. It was this flaw in an
otherwise simple game, which brought the play to an end. Intimations
that an aquatic tourney of some sort was the feature in the Day-nursery
began to leak through to the room below. The competitors were
apprehended and brought for judgment before the ladies, who were
sitting in the garden and watching the Fal as it streamed by to the sea.
"They had better go and play in the Beach Grove," sighed Lady Gray.
This ruling Archie did not veto or contest, for he had wearied of indoor
amusements, and felt that the well-timbered groves would afford new
avenues for play. So the boys departed like deer among the trunks of
the trees.
It was a cosy conversation which the ladies enjoyed after this. Any
conversation would be cosy that had been reared in the glory of such a
garden, and in the comfort of those lazy chairs. Mrs. Pennybet began by
declaring, as these shameless ladies do, that her hostess's fair-haired
nephew was quite the most beautiful child she had ever seen; she could
hug him all day; nay, she could eat him. And, thereupon Lady Gray
told her the whole story of Edgar Gray Doe; how his mother had been
Sir Peter's sister, and the loveliest woman in Western Cornwall; how
she had paid with her life for Edgar's being; and how her husband, the
chief of lovers, had quickly followed his young bride.
"They're an emotional lot, these Does," said Lady Gray. "As surely as
they come fair-haired, they are brilliantly romantic and blindly adoring.
And Edgar's every inch a Doe. Anybody can lead him into mischief.
And anybody who likes will do so."
"Oh, I suppose he's troublesome like all boys," suggested Mrs.

Pennybet, with a rapid mental survey of the existence of Archie. "He
will grow into a fine man some day."
"Perhaps," said Lady Gray, staring over the tranquil water of the Fal, as
though it represented the intervening years. "We shall see."
"And Archie," continued Mrs. Pennybet, "though he's a plague now,
will be a brilliant and dominating man, I think. He's not easily mastered,
and I don't believe adverse circumstances will ever beat him.... Isn't it
funny to think that these restless boys are here to inherit the world? We
old fogies"--Mrs. Pennybet laughed, for she didn't mean what she
said--"are really done for and shelved. These boys are the interesting
ones, whose tales have yet to be told."
The speaker dropped her voice, as she found herself moralising; and
Lady Gray perceived that an atmosphere of tender speculation had risen
around their conversation. She turned her face away, and looked over
that part of the inheritable world which met her gaze. From her feet
perfect lawns sloped down to a gracious waterway, which shuddered
occasionally in a gentle wind; on every side pleasing trees were massed
into shady and grateful woods; overhead the noonday sun lit up a
deep-blue sky. Perhaps the sublimity of the scene played upon her
softer emotions. Perhaps all intense beauty is pathetic, and makes one
think of poor illusions and unavailing dreams. Lady Gray wondered
why she could not feel, on this serene morning, the same confidence in
Edgar Doe's future, as her friend felt in Archie's; why she should rather
be conscious of a romantic foreboding. But she only murmured:
"Yes, we must bow before sovereign youth."
And that was the last word uttered, till the sound of hearty boys' voices,
coming from the trunks of the trees, prompted Mrs. Pennybet to say
cheerfully:
"Here they come, the heirs to the world."
As she spoke, Archie Pennybet, dark and dictatorial, and Edgar Doe,
fair and enthusiastic, came into view.
"Yes," replied Lady Gray, "but only two of them. There are others they
must share it with. Shall we go indoors?"
And indoors or out-of-doors, that was a very delightful day spent at
Graysroof. And, when the sun's rays began to grow ruddy, there came
the pleasant journey down the Estuary to Falmouth Town. Mrs.
Pennybet and her son were rowed homeward by Baptist, that sombre

boatman employed at Graysroof, in Master Doe's own particular boat.
"_The Lady Fal_," men called it, from the dainty conceit that it was the
spouse of the lordly Estuary. Edgar Doe accompanied them, as the
master of his craft.
Nobody talked much during the voyage. Baptist was always too solemn
for speech. Master Doe, on these occasions, liked to dream with one
hand trailing in the water. Master Pennybet, in the common way