Turnbull displayed a proficiency which astonished him. Even the sergeant
was amazed, and suspected her of long practice.

"I wonder whether it is very hot outside?" she said, at last, rising and
looking out of the window.

"Only pleasantly warm," said the sergeant. "It would be nice down by the
water."

"I'm afraid of disturbing father by our talk," said the considerate
daughter. "You might tell him we've gone for a little stroll when he
wakes," she added, turning to Blundell.

Mr. Blundell, who had risen with the idea of acting the humble but, in
his opinion, highly necessary part of chaperon, sat down again and
watched blankly from the window until they were out of sight. He was
half inclined to think that the exigencies of the case warranted him in
arousing the farmer at once.

It was an hour later when the farmer awoke, to find himself alone with
Mr. Blundell, a state of affairs for which he strove with some
pertinacity to make that aggrieved gentleman responsible.

"Why didn't you go with them?" he demanded. "Because I wasn't asked,"
replied the other.

Mr. Turnbull sat up in his chair and eyed him disdainfully. "For a
great, big chap like you are, John Blundell," he exclaimed, "it's
surprising what a little pluck you've got."