“Do you remember the last time I saw you?” inquired her ladyship’s shamefaced son, “and the cropper I came, over in that field?” and he pointed in the direction.
“Aye, to be sure I do, sir! What would ail me that I’d forget it? Sure, weren’t you nearly killed dead?”
“Nearly, I suppose. I have not forgotten what you did for me that day.”
“Sure it was nothing, sir, I’d do as much for ye again.”
“I hope you never may have the chance! You were a kind, active little helper. How you did run about, and how you mothered me! I’ve owed you a debt ever since; I’d like to give you a souvenir of some sort even now—better late than never.”
“Thank your honour, but I have one already, and one is all I want.”
“What may it be? Not my hat—you brought that after me!”
“No, I’ve no call for hats. ’Twas the horse’s shoe I found, an elegant, bright new shoe; it was lying on the grass on the other side of the ditch. I have it nailed up, ever since, for luck.”
“Has it brought you any?”