“Of course he has,” Margaret hastened to say, “and I’ll promise to love him dearly, mamma. Only――” she bent and bit off a thread――“I do wish he hadn’t quite such an assured way of talking and doing things――just as though he couldn’t do anything out of the way or say anything that wasn’t just right.” “But――――” “I know, mamma, that’s what makes it much worse; he never does.” CHAPTER XVI “I say, Margey, Will tells me you’ve sold the russet harness. I reckon he’s lying, but I couldn’t see it anywhere in the stable.” Phillip paused in his work of carving a second slice of lamb for John――the morning’s gunning had been more productive of hunger than partridges, although six brace of birds had rewarded them――and looked anxiously at Margaret. “Will is right, Phil,” she answered evenly. “You know, dear, we’re not quite so well off as we were before father died and it seemed best to get rid of some of the extra things. We didn’t really need the russet harness. Judge Pottinger took that and two heavy work harnesses.” “But――but――――!” Phillip stared in surprise. “We are surely not so poor that we have to sell things like that to the neighbours, Margey! Great Scott, what do they think of us? And, besides, the russet harness was the best of the lot, and a heap sweller than the black leather. Don’t you think so, John?” “Russet’s rather out of style, isn’t it?” asked the other. “Well, I like it better, anyhow,” asserted Phillip, completing his carving with a vicious hack of the knife. “And――what else is gone, Margey? I’d like to know so that when I see the neighbours using our things I won’t charge them with stealing them.” Margaret’s cheeks flushed a little, but she answered as calmly as before: “I reckon that’s about all, Phil. I’m sorry you care so much; I didn’t think you would.” Phillip made no reply, and a moment later the conversation at the dinner table started afresh on other lines. But constraint was visible. Margaret felt hurt that Phillip should have found fault with her before John North; Phillip was plainly out of temper, although he strove not to show it; and John was secretly angry at his friend for wounding Margaret. Of the four, only Mrs. Ryerson maintained her equanimity. She chatted on to John in her quiet, grande-dame fashion of life and customs before the war, and John answered perfunctorily and wished the repast over with.