"What is it?" "Strangers coming--listen!" And presently I heard it too, a rustle of leaves, crackling of twigs, voices and jingling spurs, coming nearer. Then as I rose with a premonition of approaching fate, forth into the clearing stepped my uncle George, my uncle Jervas and my aunt Julia. She was dressed for riding and carried the skirt of her close-fitting habit across her arm, and never had she looked handsomer nor more magnificently statuesque as she stood, her noble figure proudly erect, all potent femininity from feathered hat to dainty, firm-planted riding boots. My lips were opening in glad welcome, I had taken a quick step forward, when her words arrested me. "George Vereker!" she exclaimed, with a waft of her jewelled riding switch towards Diana and myself, "O Sir Jervas, is it with such dreadful creatures as these that you have doomed my poor, delicately nurtured Peregrine to consort? Aye, well may you grow purple, George, and you turn your back in shame, Jervas, to behold thus the degrading company--" But here, waiting for no more, I started forward, and halting within a yard of my aunt, I laid grimy hand upon grimy shirt-bosom and bowed. "Dear Aunt Julia, I rejoice to see you!" said I. For a long moment my aunt gazed on me with eyes of horrified bewilderment then, all at once, she dropped her riding-switch and, gasping my name, sank into the ready arms of my uncle George, who promptly began to fan her vigorously with his hat, while my uncle Jervas, lounging gracefully against a tree, surveyed me through his single glass and I saw his grim lips twitch. "Tell me I dream, George!" wailed aunt Julia. "Say it is a horrid vision and make me happy." "It is, Julia, it is!" said my uncle Jervas. "And yet, upon me soul, 'tis a vision that grows upon me; observe the set of the shoulders, the haughty cock o' the head, the determined jut of the chin; yes, Julia, despite rags and dirt, I recognise Peregrine as a true Vereker for the first time." Saying which, my uncle Jervas very deliberately drew on his riding glove and stepping up to me, caught and shook my hand or ever I guessed his intention. "Uncle--O Uncle Jervas!" I exclaimed and stooped my head lest he should see the tears in my eyes. "By Gad, Julia--sweet soul," exclaimed my uncle George. "Jervas is exactly right, d'ye see? Perry may look a--a what's-a-name vision, but he's a Vereker for all that--lad o' spirit--beautiful pair o' black eyes, though you can't see 'em for dirt--" My aunt moaned feebly. "But dirt, my dear soul, dirt won't harm him, nor black eyes--do him good, d'ye see, do him a world o' good, doing him good every minute--"