Dexter just touched it, and let his own fall.

"You shall hear from me again, my man," said Sir James, now once more
himself; and he spoke with great dignity. "Good day, Miss Grayson, and
thanks."

He went on quickly with his son, while Helen and Dexter took another
footpath, leading to a stile which opened upon the road.

As they reached this, Dexter laid his arm upon the top rail, and his
forehead upon his wrist.

"What is the matter, Dexter?" cried Helen, in alarm.

"Nothing: I was only laughing," said the boy, whose shoulders were
shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Laughing?"

"Yes. What a game! They were both afraid of the bullocks, and you've
only got to go right at 'em, and they're sure to run."

"I think you behaved very bravely, Dexter," said Helen warmly; "and as
I've scolded you sometimes, it is only fair that when I can I ought to
praise. You were very brave indeed."

"Tchah! that isn't being brave," said the boy, whose face was scarlet.
"Why, anybody could scare a few bullocks."

"Yes, but anybody would not," said Helen, smiling. "There, let's make
haste home. I was very much frightened too."

"Were you!" said Dexter, with wide open eyes.

"Yes; weren't you?"

"No," said Dexter; "there wasn't anything to be frightened about then.
But I'm frightened now."

"Indeed! What, now the danger is past?"

"No, not about that."

"What then, Dexter?"

"Look at my new cap."

He held up his drenched head-covering, all wet, muddy at the bottom, and
out of shape.

"'Tain't so bad as his chimney-pot hat, but it's awful, ain't it? What
will he say?"

"Papa? Only that you behaved exceedingly well, Dexter. He will be very
pleased."

"Think he will?"

"Yes; and you shall have a new cap at once."

"Let's make haste back, then," cried the boy eagerly, "for I'm as hungry
as never was. But you're sure he won't be cross?"

"Certain, Dexter. I will answer for that."

"All right. Come along. I was afraid I was in for it again."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MR. DENGATE IS INDIGNANT, AND DEXTER WANTS SOME "WUMS."

Mr Grayson was delighted when he heard the narrative from Helen.

"There! what did I tell you!" he cried. "Proofs of my theory."

"Do you think so, papa?"

"Think, my dear? I'm sure. Why, there it all was; what could have been
better? Young Danby has breed in him, and what did he do? Lay down
like a girl, and fainted. No, my dear, you cannot get over it. Pick
your subje