"I—I don't know, sir," she faltered.
"Was it Tom's death?"
"No, sir, not much. I did think of him black-berrying with me and our little Sally—but then he was so wicked! It must have been what missus said; and I was frightened because the vicar was coming to take me away—away from you; and then—oh, I don't know—I felt—I couldn't tell you—I felt I must cry and cry, like that night when—" she paused suddenly and looked away.
"When," he said encouragingly.
"I must go—Rosie," she murmured, and took up the tea-tray.
"That night when—" he repeated tenaciously.
"When you first kissed me," she said.
He blushed. "That—that made you cry!" he stammered. "Why?"
"Please, sir, I don't know."
"Mary Ann," he said gravely, "don't you see that when I did that I was—like your brother Tom?"