"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 of
tired children, finished the day in listless woolgathering. And his
mother, recalling the conversation in the stately garden up the
stream, fell to wondering whither these boys were tending.

So the passage down the full and slumbery Fal seemed nearly a
soundless thing. But all the real river-noises were there; the birds
were singing endlessly in the groves; the gulls with their hoarse
language were flying seawards from the mud-flats of Truro; the water
was gently lapping the sides of the boat; and voices could be heard
from the distances higher up and lower down the stream. And behind
all this prattle of the Estuary hung the murmur of the sea.

It was a very quiet boat that unladed the Pennybets on the steps of
a stone pier at Falmouth, and then swung round and carried Edgar up