“Ah!” said Osborn.  “Then the thing began as long since as that?” He turned to Peter.  “The girl is young and foolishly proud of being unconventional, or she would have known that she could make use of your son’s help without an obligation to speak to him again.  It’s obvious that he has worked on her rebellious humor until she forgot what is due to herself and her parents.”

“Stop a bit,” said Peter.  “She was doing her parents no discredit by speaking to my son.”

“No discredit!” Osborn exclaimed, losing his self control.  “When I find her and the fellow skulking out of sight, like a farm hand and a dairy-maid!”

Kit raised his head and his eyes sparkled.  “In a sense, I am a farm hand; but it would be better if you kept your hard words for me.”

“There are verra good dairymaids; modest, hardworking lasses,” Peter remarked.

“It’s rather late to play the part of a rustic cavalier, if that is what you meant,” Osborn said to Kit with a sneer, and then turned to Peter.  “I am forced to own that the girl deserves some blame.  Although she’s impulsive and unconventional, she ought to have seen it was ridiculous to let your son imagine they could be friends.”

“You think that was ridiculous?”

“Of course,” said Osborn, with haughty surprise.  “The absurdity of the thing is obvious.”

“Weel,” said Peter dryly, “I reckon they might be friends without much harm, though I wadn’t have them gan farther.  Although the lass is yours, the lad is mine.”

Osborn laughed scornfully.  “If I understand you, your attitude is humorous.  But do you wish me to believe you didn’t know what was going on?  You have made my tenants dissatisfied and plotted against me, and now, no doubt, you saw another means.”

“Stop,” said Peter, with stern quietness.  “We have not been good neebors, though I dinna ken that’s much fault o’ mine; but if you thowt I’d use a foolish girl to hurt a man I didn’t like, you’re varra wrang.  Hooiver, you came for an explanation, and I want one, too.”  He turned to Kit.  “You had better tell us why you kept up Miss Osborn’s acquaintance withoot her father’s consent.”

“Very well,” said Kit, standing very straight and holding up his head.  “I met Miss Osborn, so to speak, by accident, and afterwards we sometimes talked.  Her beauty and talent were plain to me at first, but it was some time before I knew I loved her, and then it was too late.  I knew my folly—­it was a folly I couldn’t conquer, and now I think I never shall.  Well, I suppose I hoped that some day things might change.”

“Do you imply that Grace knew what you hoped?” Osborn asked.

“No,” said Kit, quietly.  “I gave her no hint.  It was plain that she was willing we should meet and talk like friends.  This was not wrong.”

“Not wrong that my daughter should meet you secretly!” Osborn exclaimed with sudden rage.  “Are you foolish enough to imagine you and a member of my family could meet like equals?”