He lukes me straight in the eyes, and 'Luke,' sezzee, 'us 'a' got tu git the place in vamous arder vur young Zur Peter,' sezzee, 'An' I be responsible, and danged but what 'a'll du't,' 'ee zays.

An' I touched my yead, zo, and I zays, 'Very gude, zur,' 'a zays.

'An' zo 'twill be, yu may depend on't.'" Perhaps the unwonted stir and bustle, the coming and going of John Crewys, the confusion of workmen, the novel interest of renovating and restoring the old house, helped to brace and fortify Lady Mary during the months which followed; months, nevertheless, of suspense and anxiety, which reduced her almost to a shadow of her former self.
For Peter's career in South Africa proved an adventurous one.
He had the good luck to distinguish himself in a skirmish almost immediately after his arrival, and to win not only the approval of his noble relative and commander, but his commission.

His next exploit, however, ended rather disastrously, and Peter found himself a prisoner in the now historic bird-cage at Pretoria, where he spent a dreary, restless, and perhaps not wholly unprofitable time, in the society of men greatly his superior in soldierly and other qualities.
John feared that his mother's resolution not to follow her boy must inevitably be broken when the news of his capture reached Barracombe; but perhaps Peter's letters had repeated the peremptory injunctions of his telegram, for she never proposed to take the journey to South Africa.
The wave of relief and thankfulness that swept over the country, when the release of the imprisoned officers became known, restored not a little of Lady Mary's natural courage and spirits.

She became more hopeful about her son, and more interested daily in the beautifying and restoration of his house.
She said little in her letters to Peter of the work at Barracombe, for John advised her that the boy would probably hardly understand the necessity for it, and she herself was doubtful of Peter's approval even if he had understood.