"I did not leave them open!" Warren's voice was as passionate and shaken as the other's was cold. "I tell you I did not! I haven't been in the barn this morning, except once to get the oil can. I wasn't near the bins."
Richard was pumping water into a basin and Sarah was glad he was not looking at her; She had forgotten to put the lids of the grain bins down! The door of the small washroom was jerked violently open and Warren strode in. Mr. Hildreth had evidently terminated the argument by leaving the barn.
"Hello, you look about as amiable as a thunder storm," Richard greeted his chum. "Got a clean handkerchief handy?"
Warren grimly extended a clean square.
"What's the matter with Sarah?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, she's had a hard morning—thought I'd wash off some of the worst of it before she scared everyone at the house into fits," explained Richard, beginning gently on Sarah's face, with the clean handkerchief dipped in water. "What was the row?"
Warren's face darkened. He bit his lip.
"Mr. Hildreth found the whole flock of hens having a Thanksgiving dinner out of the grain bins this morning," he said in a tone which he strived to make light and even. "He insists I left the lids up and I am just as sure I didn't. In a moment of madness I might leave one up, but I never had all the bins open at the same time since I've worked here."
"If Mr. Hildreth had a grain of sense," pronounced Richard, looking dubiously at Sarah who still presented a sad appearance notwithstanding his ministrations, "he'd know better than to accuse you. Of course some of these children have been fooling around the bins."
Sarah jumped at this uncanny penetration. She wanted nothing in the world so much as to get out of that washroom, away from Richard's straightforward gaze.