"It would be very useful about this harness," said Mr. Linden,—"will you try and get rid of the knots?"—and he handed Faith the cord, with a smile which said she must make that do instead of the lynch-pin.
Which Faith did not particularly like, for she had a strong hankering for the ride back to the bushes. She dropped the bridle upon her horse's neck, and began to exercise her patience and skill upon the knots.
"I wish I had a knife!" she said as she did so, "and I'd shew you that I am not afraid." And a little colour rose in her face, which rather grew.
"That's easy," said Squire Deacon, looking suddenly up and extending his hand. "Here's one as'll cut through most things." Mr. Linden's head was bent over the harness,—neither eye nor hand stirred from his work.
"Thank you, Mr. Deacon," said Faith, feeling the blood rise to her brow,—"but I won't go for it now.—I'll do this first." In her confusion Faith did not see another person that joined the group, till he was standing at her horse's side.
"What sort of a bee are you gettin' up here on the high-way?" said Mr. Simlins in his good-humoured growl (and he had a variety.) "What air you doin' on horse-back?"
"There's harness to be mended here, Mr. Simlins—and I'm making rope for it."
"You go 'long!" said he. "Who are you makin' rope for? Give that to me?" But Faith held fast.
"No, Mr. Simlins, you can't have it—I am bound to get out these knots.
There is work doing round here, that perhaps you can help."
Mr. Simlins stooped under her horse's head and went round to the other side, and then for the first time he got a full view.