"How did he know?" demanded David.

"He is very nice himself," Helena said smiling.

David meditated. "Is that gentleman my enemy?"

"Of course not! he isn't anybody's enemy," she told him reprovingly.

David turned silently to his rabbits.

"Why did you think he was your enemy?" she persisted.

"I only just hoped he wasn't; I don't want to love him."

"What!"

"If he was my enemy, I'd have to love him, you know," David explained
patiently.

Helena in her confused astonishment knew not what to reply. She
stammered something about that being wrong; of course David must love
Mr. Pryor!

"They ought to have fresh water," David interrupted thoughtfully; and
Helena had to reach into the hutch for a battered tin pan.

She watched him run to the stable and come back, holding the pan in
both hands and walking very slowly under the mottled branches of the
button-woods; at every step the water splashed over the rusty brim,