"Are you hurt?" repeated the little girl who was not to be put off so easily.
"No;" he answered, almost softly.
"Trot; I like to see a horse trot," said the child.
But Mr. Rougeant was looking round to see if he could discern someone searching for the child.
"What is your father's name?" asked the farmer.
"Papa."
"Humph! and your mother's?"
"Mamma."
He tried another expedient. "What do people say to your papa, Mr. What."