Annie passed a wakeful night, and the next morning she swallowed her pride and went to the stables in the hope of seeing Peter alone. Peter, too, in spite of his victory of the evening, had kept vigil through the night. He was listlessly currying one of the carriage horses when he saw Annie leave the house and come slowly down the walk toward the stables. His heart suddenly leaped to his mouth, but a moment later he was bending over the horse with his back to the door, whistling as merrily as though he had not a care in the world. He heard Annie's hesitating step on the threshold, and he smiled grimly to himself and whistled the louder. "Pete, I'm wantin' to speak to you, if ye're not busy." Peter glanced up with a well-assumed start of surprise. He looked Annie over, slowly and deliberately, and then turned back to the horse. "Aw, but I am busy," he returned. "Lift up!" he added to the horse, and he solicitously examined her foot. Annie waited patiently, struggling between a sense of pride which urged her to go back and never speak to Peter again, and a sense of shame which told her that she owed him an explanation. "Pete," she began, and there was a little catch in her voice which went to Peter's heart; in his effort to resist it and mete out due punishment for all the misery she had caused him, he was harder than he otherwise would have been. "Pete, I wanted to be tellin' ye that it wasn't my fault. He--he niver kissed me before, and I didn't know he was goin' to then." Peter shrugged. "Ye needn't be apologizin' to me. I ain't interested in yer amoors. If ye wants to be apologizin' to any one go an' do it to his wife." "His wife?" asked Annie. "Aye, his wife an' his three childern." "I didn't know he was married," said Annie, flushing again, "but 'tis no difference, for it weren't my fault. I niver acted a bit nicer to him than to anny other man, an' that's the truth." "Oh, ye're a lovely girl, ye are! Flirtin' around with other women's husbands, and lettin' every fool that comes along kiss ye if he wants to." "Ye needn't talk," cried Annie. "Ye did it yerself, an' ye're no better than the grocer man." "An' do ye think I'd a-done it if I hadn't knowed ye was willin?" Annie backed against the wall, and with flushed cheeks and blazing eyes, stared at him speechlessly, angry with herself at her powerlessness to say anything that would hurt him enough. As she stood there, Master Bobby and Mr. Lane came in on their way to visit the kennels. Mr. Lane looked curiously from the angry girl to the nonchalant groom, who had resumed his work, and was softly whistling under his breath. Master Bobby, being intent only upon puppies, passed on without noticing the two, but Mr. Lane glanced back over his shoulder at Annie's pretty flushed face, and paused to ask: "My dear girl, has that fellow been annoying you?" "No, no!" Annie said wildly. "Go away, Mr. Lane, please."