My father never liked you to go climbing about." "I am much more active than I used to be," said Lady Mary.
"No, no; you must lie down, you look quite pale." Peter's voice took an authoritative note, which came very naturally to him.

"The sudden joy of my return has been too much for you, poor old mum." He leant over her fondly, and kissed the sweet, pale face, and then regarded her in a curious, doubtful manner.
"You're changed, mother.

I can't think what it is.

Isn't your hair done differently--or something ?" Poor Lady Mary lifted both hands to her head, and looked at him with something like alarm in her blue eyes.
"Is it?
Perhaps it is," she faltered.

"Don't you like it, Peter ?" "I like the old way best," said Peter.
"But this is so much more becoming, Peter." "A fellow doesn't care," said Peter, loftily, "whether his mother's hair is becoming or not.