“And where is—where are THEY?”
“At work on the wagon. I determined to stay with you, though you are perfectly safe here.”
“I suppose I ought—to thank—this man, papa?”
“Most certainly, though of course, I have already done so. But he was rather curt in reply. These half-savage men have such singular ideas. He said the beast would never have attacked you except for the honey-pot which it scented. That's absurd.”
“Then it's all my fault?”
“Nonsense! How could YOU know?”
“And I've made all this trouble. And frightened the horses. And spoilt the wagon. And made the man run down and bring me up here when he didn't want to!”
“My dear child! Don't be idiotic! Amy! Well, really!”
For the idiotic one was really wiping two large tears from her lovely blue eyes. She subsided into an ominous silence, broken by a single sniffle. “Try to go to sleep, dear; you've had quite a shock to your nerves, added her father soothingly. She continued silent, but not sleeping.
“I smell coffee.”