'Did Dickie Haddon give you my message?' she asked in a low voice.
Harry nodded.
'It's all right,' he said.
There was another pause, broken at length by Chris.
'You ought not to be angry with me. It isn't fair.'
She was thinking of the day years ago when she was carried, all tattered and torn, from the midst of that mob of sportive cattle. She was a very little girl then, but the incident had remained fresh and vivid in her mind, and ever since Harry Hardy had been a hero in her eyes. He only remembered the affair casually and without interest.
'I am really very grateful to you for—for going away, because I know you had good cause for your anger.'
Oh, that's all right,' said Harry again, inaptly.
'But you ought not to be angry with me. It pained me very much—the trial and your mother's sorrow, and all the rest. It hurt me because it seemed to set me on the side that was against Mrs. Hardy, and I—I always admired her. I knew she was a good woman, and it was easy to see the trouble cut into her heart although she bore it so proudly.'
'Oh, that's all right.' Harry was fumbling with the gravel in the hopper. He was conscious that his replies were foolish and trivial, but for the life of him he could do no better.