"To be sure, to be sure—don't mention it, my brave lad. You did a noble action and probably saved my life as well as that of Mistress Alice," said the parson kindly, as he patted the lad on the back.
"And as for me, dear Parson Trant, I must beg pardon for my rudeness in laughing," said the girl with regret in her tone, and then turning to Ande she thanked him for his brave conduct. "And now you must both come up to the Manor for lunch, will you not? O do, please; father will be so delighted."
Parson Trant cast a rueful glance at his clothes, saying he was hardly presentable, and then his face relaxed into a smile that widened into a good-humoured laugh as he pictured himself seated at the squire's table in his present condition. As for the lad, the invitation would have been acceptable, had he not thought of the squire's antipathy toward himself. He declined also, but accompanied the squire's daughter to the Manor gates, having first bid the kind-hearted parson adieu.
"I can't tell why it was that Queeny ran away. She never acted that way before. I was so frightened. It was very brave of you to stop her."
The lad was a trifle confused under these glowing tributes to his heroism and could make but little reply.
"Trembath—Trembath," continued the girl musingly, "why that's the name of the former owner of the Manor—that is, before my grandfather. They said he was killed in America, and you——"
"He was my grandfather," said the youth with a sensitive flush on his face. "He was an honourable man."
The flush on the face of the youth was reflected on the countenance of the girl, for she realised that she had committed an indiscretion in referring to the death of his grandfather.
There was an embarrassed silence for a time and then the girl exclaimed,
"There's Ned Pengilly!"