“It’s odd,” said Jean, “but the last time I was married the same thing happened.  D’you remember Davie?  You were the minister and I was the bride, and I had my pinafore buttoned down the front to look grown up, and Tommy Sprott was the bridegroom.  And Great-aunt Alison let us have a cake and some shortbread, and we made strawberry wine ourselves.  And at the wedding-feast Tommy Sprott suddenly pointed at me and said, ’Put that girl out; she’s eating all the shortbread.’  Me—­his new-made bride!”

* * * * *

The whole village turned out to see the newly-married couple leave, including the blacksmith and three dogs.  It hurt Mhor afresh to see the dogs barking happily while Peter, who would so have enjoyed a fight with them, was spending a boring day in the stable-yard, but Jean comforted him with the thought of Peter’s delight at Mintern Abbas.

“Will Richard Plantagenet mind if he chases rabbits?”

“You won’t, will you, Biddy?” Jean said.

“Not a bit.  If you’ll stand between me and the wrath of the keepers Peter may do any mortal thing he likes.”

As they drove away through the golden afternoon Jean said:  “I’ve always wondered what people talked about when they went away on their wedding journey?”

“They don’t talk:  they just look into each other’s eyes in a sort of ecstasy, saying, ‘Is it I?  Is it thou?’”

“That would be pretty silly,” said Jean.  “We shan’t do that anyway.”

Her husband laughed.

“You are really very like Jock, my Jean....  D’you remember what your admired Dr. Johnson said?  ’If I had no duties I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman, but she should be one who could understand me and would add something to the conversation.’  Wise old man!  Tell me, Penny-plain, you’re not fretting about leaving the boys?  You’ll see them again in a few days.  Are you dreading having me undiluted?”

“My dear, you don’t suppose the boys come first now, do you?  I love them as dearly as ever I did, but compared with you—­it’s so different, absolutely different—­I can’t explain.  I don’t love you like people in books, all on fire, and saying wonderful things all the time.  But to be with you fills me with utter content.  I told you that night in Hopetoun that the boys filled my life.  And then you went away, and I found that though I had the boys my life and my heart were empty.  You are my life, Biddy.”

“My blessed child.”

* * * * *

About four o’clock they came home.