That night when he pointed out the stars to us from the Pulpit Stone was the last time for several weeks that Peter shared our toil and pastime. The next day he complained of headache and sore throat, and seemed to prefer lying on Aunt Olivia’s kitchen sofa to doing any work. As it was not in Peter to be a malingerer he was left in peace, while we picked apples. Felix alone, must unjustly and spitefully, declared that Peter was simply shirking. “He’s just lazy, that’s what’s the matter with him,” he said. “Why don’t you talk sense, if you must talk?” said Felicity. “There’s no sense in calling Peter lazy. You might as well say I had black hair. Of course, Peter, being a Craig, has his faults, but he’s a smart boy. His father was lazy but his mother hasn’t a lazy bone in her body, and Peter takes after her.” “Uncle Roger says Peter’s father wasn’t exactly lazy,” said the Story Girl. “The trouble was, there were so many other things he liked better than work.” “I wonder if he’ll ever come back to his family,” said Cecily. “Just think how dreadful it would be if OUR father had left us like that!” “Our father is a King,” said Felicity loftily, “and Peter’s father was only a Craig. A member of our family COULDN’T behave like that.” “They say there must be a black sheep in every family,” said the Story Girl. “There isn’t any in ours,” said Cecily loyally. “Why do white sheep eat more than black?” asked Felix. “Is that a conundrum?” asked Cecily cautiously. “If it is I won’t try to guess the reason. I never can guess conundrums.” “It isn’t a conundrum,” said Felix. “It’s a fact. They do--and there’s a good reason for it.” We stopped picking apples, sat down on the grass, and tried to reason it out--with the exception of Dan, who declared that he knew there was a catch somewhere and he wasn’t going to be caught. The rest of us could not see where any catch could exist, since Felix solemnly vowed, ‘cross his heart, white sheep did eat more than black. We argued over it seriously, but finally had to give it up. “Well, what is the reason?” asked Felicity. “Because there’s more of them,” said Felix, grinning. I forget what we did to Felix. A shower came up in the evening and we had to stop picking. After the shower there was a magnificent double rainbow. We watched it from the granary window, and the Story Girl told us an old legend, culled from one of Aunt Olivia’s many scrapbooks.