"There's going to be trouble with that fellow," muttered John. "Brassocks will grow like anything this spring unless we get in extra boys to hoe them. You can't expect the men to get the fields cleared quick enough."
"Oh, you're always seeing trouble ahead! You're as bad as Sarah," snapped Mary. "Why can't you look on the cheerful side of things for a change? Anyone would think you were an old man from the way you talk."
John looked up, hurt and surprised. Mary's outburst was unexpected. She never said such things.
His puzzled glance curbed her irritation, the instinct to comfort being stronger than the desire to wound some one else.
"I didn't meant that," she said quickly. "I didn't mean that, John. I don't know what I'm saying. I've got such a headache."
His surprise deepened to speechless bewilderment when she turned and suddenly kissed him on the forehead, then fled upstairs to her room.
John stood in the hall, silently scratching his head.
"Now what on earth did she do that for?" he inquired of the hatstand.
It ventured no reply.