Peter slipped from the roller and ran back down the field. Standing in the path awaiting her was Uncle Micah. She never had a moment's doubt that it was Uncle Micah and he looked much, much worse than she had imagined. Tall. Forbidding. Black clothes. Hard black hat. Big black beard. She remembered that beard - and those smouldering eyes glaring at her now as she came up to him.

"Good morning, Uncle Micah," she said politely, with hardly a quiver in her voice. "How do you do? I hope I haven't kept you waiting for breakfast. I woke up early and I've been exploring."

He did not answer but put his hands on her shoulders and looked searchingly into her face. She returned his look fearlessly, and realized almost at once that he was not so much to be feared as to be pitied.

"Come, child," he said at last. "We were perplexed," and led the way back to the farm. Peter soon discovered that her uncle invariably spoke like this but he was a man of few words, for he said nothing else until they got back. When she knew him better she realized that he did talk rather like the Old Testament.

The kitchen looked more cheerful in the morning sunlight, and was filled with a delicious smell of frying bacon. Aunt Carol, she thought, looked tired behind her smile of welcome, and when she ran forward to help her with the plates she whispered, "It was rude of me, Auntie! I'm so sorry. I forgot the time, but I got talking to Henry."

"That's all right, Peter," she answered as she stooped over the fire, "but your uncle doesn't like to be kept waiting for his meals, and he wouldn't sit down without you. How are you this morning?"

Before Peter could answer, her uncle boomed from the huge chair at the head of the table:

"Is not the meal yet prepared?"

Peter sat down thankfully. But only for a moment. A glance like black lightning from the head of the table brought her to her feet again for grace. And what a grace!

So different from the simple, sincere "Lord Bless this Food..." of Hatchholt, for this was a personal appeal for mercy and light from Uncle Micah to his Maker.

When at last they sat down Peter was too hungry to talk. There were boiled eggs with the bacon and fried bread. There seemed to be plenty of butter, but she noticed that the marmalade was in front of Uncle Micah, while she shared with her aunt blackberry and apple jam. Presently the black beard was wiped and the specially large cup returned to the saucer.