ained by
putting it off. He meant to marry Grace, whether Osborn approved or not,
and to some extent frankness was needful. He waited until she reached the
bridge and got up when she stopped. There was some color in her face, but
she gave him a steady look.

"I have been to see the mended dyke," she said, and he knew that she
had pluck.

"It's a rough job. There was no time to finish it neatly."

"I'm surprised you were able to finish it at all."

"I mustn't claim all the credit," Kit rejoined, smiling. "There were a
number of others as well as the Tarnside men."

Grace made an impatient gesture. "Our men could have done nothing useful
if they had been left alone, and the others wouldn't have helped if you
had not persuaded them. Why did you?"

"To some extent, my object was selfish. If the flood had broken through,
it might have done much damage to all the crops, besides your father's."

"It could not have damaged yours."

"Oh, well," said Kit, "I hate to see things spoiled, and am afraid I'm
meddlesome."

Grace's color rose, but she fixed her eyes on him. "That is not kind; I
hardly think it's just. I have not accused you of meddling."

"No," said Kit; "I'm sorry! It was a stupid remark. But I expect you know
what your father thinks."

Grace was silent for a few moments. She did know and would rather not
have met Kit, but was too proud to turn back. Besides, she felt her
father was prejudiced, and although it was a family tradition that the
Osborns stood together, she rebelled and wanted to be just. The situation
was embarrassing, but there was no use in pretense.

"I think you were generous and imagine my mother agrees," she said. "She
wanted to send some lunch to the beck, but the rain was very heavy and
there was nobody to go." Then, remembering something Osborn had said, she
hesitated. "I understand your helpers were paid."

"Oh, yes," said Kit, not with malice, but because he saw he must be
frank. "I was not left out."

Grace turned her head. This was worse than she had thought. She was
angry, and would not let Kit think she approved. Her eyes sparkled as she
looked up. "Ah," she said, "you deserved something very different! I wish
you had not told me!"

"I didn't tell you because I was hurt," Kit replied with grave
quietness. "It looks as if we had got to face things. Your father thinks
me his enemy. I'm not; I have never tried to injure him, and if the dyke
was threatened by another flood, I