"You set fire to the hay-rick!" Jack cried in dismay, when he at last understood Theodore's somewhat rambling statement.
"Yes. Of course I did not mean to—I suppose Tom or I must have dropped a lighted match in some loose hay without knowing it. Oh, dear, isn't it dreadful?"
"Was father very angry, Theo?"
"I don't know—not angry exactly, but sorry, and—and disappointed. He said he thought he could have trusted me," Theodore explained, with a choking sob. "I was very naughty, very disobedient, and I can't think what made me be so wicked. I was never so sorry about anything in my life before. Father said I ought not to have gone into the lower meadow with Tom; I ought just to have spoken to him, and gone home."
"Yes, yes!"
"Do you hate me, Jack?"
"No, no, Theo! I love you dearly—dearly!"
"I don't deserve you should. I expect she hates me," Theodore said with a sigh.
"She? Who?"
"Your mother."