gave a warning shout. She felt him try to turn the sledge, but they were
going too fast; the light frame canted and turned over, and they rolled
off into the snow. When Grace got up and shook herself, fifty yards lower
down, she saw Thorn standing by the righted sledge. He came to meet her
as she toiled back and his eyes sparkled.

"By George!" he said, "you are fine. You're a thorough sport!"

Grace colored. The compliment was obviously frank and not premeditated;
perhaps she deserved it, but she did not want Thorn to praise her. His
manners were good, but somehow he often jarred. He had not, within her
memory, said anything that could justly offend her, and although he was a
neighbor and there were no secrets in the dale, she had not known him do
a shabby thing. Yet, on the whole, he rather repelled than attracted her.
She studied him as he came down the hill.

He was a big, handsome man, and it was, of course, ridiculous to dislike
him because he was older than she and was getting fat. He was an amusing
talker and a good sportsman, but now and then one got a hint of hardness
and cunning. Somehow, so to speak, he did not ring true.

"I held on because I thought I might fall over the crag if I let go," she
said with a laugh. "Then as I did hold on, it was merely prudent to try
to steer the sledge."

"Oh, yes," Thorn agreed. "But the important thing is you saw this and
didn't lose your nerve. Anyhow, if you had lost it, I couldn't have
blamed you; I blame myself for my confounded thoughtlessness that let you
run the risk. In fact, I'm dreadfully sorry and don't mind owning that I
got a fright."