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The little party that lay in wait for the Alderney steamer in old Jack Guille's boat off the Eperquerie, next morning, was eminently lacking in the vivacity that usually distinguishes such parties when the sea is smooth and the sky is blue. In fact, when they got on board, the Captain decided in his own mind that they must all have quarrelled before starting.
Guille's wake all except one or two housewives whose men were due for dinner, and knew they must be fed whatever had come to Peter Mauger. "Gaderabotin!" said one of these as he came up, and stood scratching his head and gazing down the road after them. "What's taken them all?"
As it was, when the Seigneur's big white stallion stuck his head over the green dyke behind them, and gave a shrill neigh at the unexpected sight of so many people in a field which was usually occupied only by Charles Guille's two mild-eyed cows and their calves, the women screamed and the children lied. "Man doux! but I thought it was the devil himself," said old Mrs. Guille.
So far the discussion as to the sale of the farm had been confined to the elders. Young Tom had viewed John Guille's visits to the place with the lowering suspicion of a bull at a stranger's invasion of his field. He wondered what was going on and surmised that it was nothing to his advantage.
Guille's had been groping along possibilities of all kinds, clinging at the same time to the hope that Peter would still turn up all right. Now that her hope was shattered her mind dropped naturally into a grim groove, along which it had taken a tentative trip during the morning and had recoiled from with a shudder. The last time Mrs.
Maybe Philip Guille's right, and he's safe in Guernsey by this. Come along to that shelter and let's have a drink." They had their bottle out of the boat, and they had also come upon Gard's bottle of cognac, of which quite half remained.
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