“You shall hear from me again, my man,” said Sir James, now once more himself; and he spoke with great dignity. “Good day, Miss Grayson, and thanks.”
He went on quickly with his son, while Helen and Dexter took another footpath, leading to a stile which opened upon the road.
As they reached this, Dexter laid his arm upon the top rail, and his forehead upon his wrist.
“What is the matter, Dexter?” cried Helen, in alarm.
“Nothing: I was only laughing,” said the boy, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed mirth.
“Laughing?”
“Yes. What a game! They were both afraid of the bullocks, and you’ve only got to go right at ’em, and they’re sure to run.”
“I think you behaved very bravely, Dexter,” said Helen warmly; “and as I’ve scolded you sometimes, it is only fair that when I can I ought to praise. You were very brave indeed.”
“Tchah! that isn’t being brave,” said the boy, whose face was scarlet. “Why, anybody could scare a few bullocks.”
“Yes, but anybody would not,” said Helen, smiling. “There, let’s make haste home. I was very much frightened too.”