and servant girls, but there are no peasants that I know of," said Derek, coldly.
"Ah. I love peasants. One always thinks of the Happy Peasant!"
"Why not the Hungry Peasant? Or the Half-hanged Peasant? Or the Hideous Peasant?"
Miss Pearsall gave a little shriek. "How brutal you are! Is your brother always so cruel, Captain Vale? But indeed, I have no repartee. All I can do is to dance in the sun and sing!" She danced a few graceful steps, and trilled a bar or two.
The Vicar was warming his legs before the fire. He said: "It would not be a bad idea, really, for me to drop in on the dancers. Many of them must be parishioners of mine. It might encourage them if I put in an appearance, eh?"
"They don't need encouraging in what they're up to this evening," said Mr. Jerrold. "I shouldn't go, if I were you."
"One thing that has surprised me since I came here," said Derek, "is that the Scots do not go to church. I had always thought they were inveterate churchgoers."
"We all have our illusions," laughed Mr. Jerrold. "I used to think that the Englishman of the labouring class was a domineering fellow, rather rough with his womenfolk. I know now that, whatever he may be abroad, he is amazing meek at home and it is the woman who does the bossing. They are tartars, too."
Grace followed Derek to the hall when he went for his top-coat. "I like your brother," she said.
"I liked him too—until today."
She flushed and said plaintively: "You do take sudden dislikes, don't you? You don't like Miss Pearsall; you have turned against your own brother; shall I be the next?"
"Well, be careful what you do," he warned.
