Something at that moment was red besides Anne's hair . . . which had
always been a tender point with her.

"I'd rather have red hair than none at all, except a little fringe round
my ears," she flashed.

The shot told, for Mr. Harrison was really very sensitive about his bald
head. His anger choked him up again and he could only glare speechlessly
at Anne, who recovered her temper and followed up her advantage.

"I can make allowance for you, Mr. Harrison, because I have an
imagination. I can easily imagine how very trying it must be to find a
cow in your oats and I shall not cherish any hard feelings against you
for the things you've said. I promise you that Dolly shall never break
into your oats again. I give you my word of honor on THAT point."

"Well, mind you she doesn't," muttered Mr. Harrison in a somewhat
subdued tone; but he stamped off angrily enough and Anne heard him
growling to himself until he was out of earshot.

Grievously disturbed in mind, Anne marched across the yard and shut the
naughty Jersey up in the milking pen.

"She can't possibly get out of that unless she tears the fence down,"
she reflected. "She looks pretty quiet now. I daresay she has sickened
herself on those oats. I wish I'd sold her to Mr. Shearer when he wanted
her last week, but I thought it was just as well to wait until we had
the auction of the stock and let them all go together. I believe it is
true about Mr. Harrison being a crank. Certainly there's nothing of the
kindred spirit about HIM."