"I'll ride him home," said the boy exultingly.

"No you won't, Bern," said his sister quickly. "He's not safe. You know
what an awkward beast he is at times, and you could never get him across
the Coupée."

"Pooh! I'd ride him across any day."

"Promise me you won't," she said, with a hand on his arm.

"Oh, well, if you say so," he grumbled. "I could manage him all right
though."

Just then the doorway darkened and two young men entered, and threw
their caps on the green bed, and sat down with an awkward nod of
greeting to the company in general.

"My son Tom," said Mr. Hamon, and Tom jerked another awkward nod towards
the stranger. "And Peter Mauger"--Peter repeated the performance, more
shyly and awkwardly even than Tom, from a variety of reasons.

Tom was at home, and he had not even been invited--except by Tom. And
strangers always made him shy. And then there was Nance, with her great
eyes fixed on him, he knew, though he had not dared to look straight at
her.

And then the stranger had an air about him--it was hard to say of what,
but it made Peter Mauger and Tom conscious of personal uncouthness, and
of a desire to get up and go out and wash their hands and have a shave.