“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 its own wake.  Baptist was a glorious hand with the paddles, and, as the Lady Fal swept easily over the glassy water, Edgar gazed at the familiar things coming into view.  There, at last, was the huge house of Graysroof, belittled by the loftiness of the quilted hill, on whose slope it stood, and by the extent of its surrounding woods.  And there in the water lay mirrored a reflection of house and trees and hillside.  Baptist rested on his oars, and, turning round on his seat, drank in the loveliness of England and the Fal.  His oars remained motionless for a long time, till he suddenly commented: 

“H’m.”

This encouraging remark Master Doe interpreted as a willingness to converse, and he let escape a burst of confidence.

“You know, I like Archie Pennybet very much indeed.  In fack, I think I like him better than anyone else in the world, ’septing of course my relations.”

Watching his hearer nervously to see how he would receive this important avowal, Master Doe flushed when he saw no signs of emotion on Baptist’s countenance.  He didn’t like thinking he had made himself look a fool.  Probably Baptist perceived this, for he felt he must contrive a reply, and, abandoning “H’m” as too uncouth and too unflavoured with sympathy, gave of his best, muttering: 

“Ah, he’s one of we.”