tent, for I could take my time here. Couldn't I, Mr. Heriot?"
"Certainly," agreed Dick. "Say all you want to, Jack. Which knee is to be the altar?"
It was the first time Jennifer had heard that tone to Jack, and she bit her lips as Jack chose the knee with care and bowed her shock head. Jack marshalled all her family with determination, even to the guinea-pigs left behind. Dick heard her ask a blessing for Jennifer, and then he started at his own name.
"And please take care of Mr. Heriot and make him a good man amen good-night Mr. Heriot."
The quick, sticky kiss on his lips full-stopped the words. Jack whirled; bestowed a second on Jennifer, and tore headlong up the beach, singing as she ran. Dick gazed after her reflectively.
"Was that her wording or yours?" he asked.
"Oh, hers, of course. You heard her ask to be made a good girl herself."
"I did," he turned to her with amusement. "And I heard her place you in the category with her parents and the guinea-pigs as those who are presumably above improvement."
"I have told her that it is want of respect," said Jennifer in distress. "But you know Jack."
"And she evidently knows me." He laughed at her troubled face, but the laugh hardly rang true. "Please don't apologise. I am flattered at her interest."
But he sat silent for a while after that, and then she heard him singing softly a little French song of Swinburne's which Jack had objected to as "silly" earlier in the evening.
"Toi, mon âme
Et ma foi,
Sois ma dame
Et ma loi;
Sois ma mie,
Sois Marie,
Sois ma vie,
Toute à moi!"
