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Hawker helped the girl to alight, and she paused for a moment conversing with the old man about the oxen. Then she ran smiling up the steps to meet the Worcester girls. "Oh, such a lovely time! Those dear old oxen you should have been with us!" "Oh, Miss Fanhall!" "What is it, Mrs. Truscot?" "That was a great prank of yours last night, my dear. We all enjoyed the joke so much." "Prank?"
"Oh, nothing!" she replied at first, but later she added in an undertone, "That wretched Mrs. Truscot " "What did she say?" whispered the younger Worcester girl. "Why, she said oh, nothing!" Both Hollanden and Hawker were industriously reflecting. Later in the morning Hawker said privately to the girl, "I know what Mrs. Truscot talked to you about." She turned upon him belligerently. "You do?"
"Yes," he answered with meekness. "It was undoubtedly some reference to your ride upon the ox wagon." She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Well?" With still greater meekness he said, "I am very sorry." "Are you, indeed?" she inquired loftily. "Sorry for what? Sorry that I rode upon your father's ox wagon, or sorry that Mrs. Truscot was rude to me about it?"
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