"Then you told me you had not, and I begged your pardon for saying things when I was cross. I know you well enough now; you can't keep up anything of that sort—you get in a temper sometimes, but it's all over soon and you shake hands, or even if you don't, it's soon all right again and forgotten: but now you keep on talking about our not being friends any more, and I'm sure there's something the matter. Now, isn't there?"
Harry nodded and looked gloomy as he went on cutting in the hard wood, and spoiled the shape of the K he was carving.
"What is it, then? Why don't you tell me?"
"Don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Then it's something serious?"
Harry nodded again.
"You're not going away, Hal?" cried Phra excitedly.
"It seems as if we'd better," said Harry gloomily.
"No, that you shan't!" cried Phra angrily. "Who says that? I know; it's your father's offended about something. But I won't have it."
Harry smiled.