s, and he generally wears a
light coat, and a flower in his button-hole. The flower he wore this
morning looked like--, but I was angry with myself for thinking of it,
and went on drawing again, as well as I could, for I could not help
wondering why he was coming to our house. Then it struck me he might
have seen Chris trespassing, and he might be coming at last to lay a
formal complaint.

Twenty minutes later James came to tell me that Father wished to see
me in the library, and when I got there, Father was just settling his
eye-glass in his eye, and the Old Squire was standing on the
hearth-rug, with a big piece of paper in his hand. And then I saw that
I was right, and that the flowers in his button-hole were
hose-in-hose.

As I came in he laid down the paper, took the hose-in-hose out of his
button-hole in his left hand, and held out his right hand to me,
saying: "I'm more accustomed to public speaking than to private
speaking, Miss Mary. But--will you be friends with me?"

In Mary's Meadow my head had got all confused, because I was
frightened. I was not frightened to-day, and I saw the whole matter in
a moment. He had found the double cowslips, and he knew now that I was
neither a liar nor a thief. I was glad, but I could not feel very
friendly to him. I said, "You can speak when you are angry."

Though he was behind me, I could feel Father coming nearer, and I
knew somehow that he had taken out his glass again to rub it and put
it back, as he does when he is rather surprised or amused. I was
afraid he meant to laugh at me afterwards, and he can tease terribly,
but I could not have helped saying what came into my head that morning
if I had tried. When you have suffered a great deal about anything,
you cannot sham, not even politeness.

The Old Squire got rather red. Then he said, "I am afraid I am very
hasty, my dear, and say very unjustifiable things. But I am very
sorry, and I beg your pardon. Will you forgive me?"

I said, "Of course, if you're sorry, I forgive you, but you have been
a very long time in repenting."

Which was true. If I had been cross with one, of the others, and had
borne malice for five months, I should have thought myself very
wicked. But when I had said it, I felt sorry, for the old gentleman
made no answer. Father did not speak either, and I began to feel very
miserable. I touched the flowers, and the Old Squire gave them to me
in silence. I thanked him very much, and then I said-