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quiet, Mother,” said Francis wearily.
    â€œAye, let the lad be, Sybil,” urged Mr. Thorpe. “He needs to rest.”
    But this admonition did not please her husband, who told his wife’s brother hotly that he was well able to care for his own son without anyone else’s counsel. One of his guests—the man in red, whose name was Tempest, it seemed he came from Boiling Hall—offered to go for his physician, and this offer was accepted. Meanwhile Mr. Ferrand pushed John aside and himself supported Francis up the bank. Poor Mrs. Ferrand took the boy’s other arm, looking into his face fondly, though indeed she was more of a drag than a support to him.
    I stood and watched them go.
    â€œFarewell, Pen. I’m sorry I frightened you,” said Francis, stretching out his hand to me across his mother.
    I took his fingers—warm, strong and slender—within my own. “I am sorry you are hurt, Francis,” I told him quietly.
    Francis laughed suddenly, and his grey eyes sparkled.
    â€œWell, I rode Snowball,” he said.

4
THREE MEN AGREE TO DIFFER
    As we went back to The Breck we met my father and Mrs. Thorpe, coming to see whether Francis’s hurt were serious. At sight of them I halted suddenly.
    â€œWhere is David?” I cried.
    Mrs. Thorpe reassured me. It seemed David had followed Lister to the house on his errand; he was frightened by Francis’s fall and inclined for weeping, so she had left him there with the apprentice. I hurried to The Breck, reproaching myself for having so long forgotten him. But I need not have troubled, for he was sitting on the step with Lister, weaving a daisy chain. As soon as David saw me he ran to me, and as I stooped to him he tried to throw the chain round my neck. Mr. Thorpe made some remark I did not hear, and my father replied:
    â€œHe has been her charge since I lost Faith.”
    His voice trembled, as it always did when he spoke of my mother, and Mr. Thorpe seemed sorry. The shadows were lengthening and it was time for us to be gone, but out of kindness he would have us stay to supper, and Mrs. Thorpe pressed our acceptance of the invitation, though I think she had not meant it to be so when we first came, for there was a great bustle in the house to make things ready. By that time, however, I was no longer timid with the Thorpes. They seemed old friends, for we had been through much together, and the Ferrands being so grand had somehow brought the Thorpes down nearer our level. So I asked plainly whether David might be put to sleep on one of the beds upstairs, and Mrs. Thorpe was very kind with him, wrapping him in an old house-coat of her own and putting an embroidered coverlet over him. Then Iasked if I might help with the supper, and she gave me trenchers and tankards to carry. John and Lister were out watering the horses, but my father and Mr. Thorpe were sitting very friendly together in the dusk when I brought them a candle.
    â€œNever fear, Robert,” Mr. Thorpe was saying, “we will bring the business to a fair end. Thank you, child,” he said, taking the stick from my hand: “You are a very sober and virtuous little maid, Penninah.”
    At this my father drew me to him, and I leaned against his knee, content.
    Presently supper was ready. Will and Eliza came in from church and a dallying walk home, half-dazed with happiness; when they heard of Francis’s fall from Snowball they plied John eagerly with questions. He was very loth, I could see, to answer, he looked tired and sad; so I answered instead, telling the story as truthfully as I could. I could see my father and the Thorpes all thought John a hero, for preventing Francis jumping with David and me on his horse’s back. I thought so too, and was truly grateful to him for David’s sake; but I could not help a slight grudge against him also, for I thought if Snowball had been allowed to take his own course unhindered, he might easily