"He went back," said Mark, "and raked it up again about our chasing his sheep, ages ago."
"Did you chase the sheep?"
"No. Of course we didn't. They started to run because they saw Pidgeon coming, and Roddy ran after them till we told him not to. The mean beast said we'd made Mary's lamb die by frightening its mother. When he only gave it her because he knew it wouldn't live. Then he said we'd frightened Aunt Bella."
Mary stared at them, fascinated.
"Oh, Mark, was Aunt Bella ill?"
"Of course she wasn't. She only says she's going to be to keep you quiet."
"Well," said Mamma, "she won't be frightened any more. He'll not ask you again."
"We don't care. He's not a bit of good. He won't let us ride his horses or climb his trees or fish in his stinking pond."
"Let Mary go there," said Dank. "She likes it. She kisses Pidgeon."
"I don't," she cried. "I hate Pidgeon. I hate Uncle Edward and Aunt
Bella. I hate Mrs. Fisher."