Not seldom this desire was so strong upon her that she felt a certainty she had wings, wings within her which she could not spread, but of the existence of which this insurgent desire was the irrefragable witness.
The sides of the coombe were hung with beeches sheathed now in tenderest green; while from out of the emptiness beneath, the insistent and melancholy cry of lambs seemed to make the shadows quiver and touched a chord of wistfulness in the heart of the girl.
The sun was already sinking behind the smooth ramparts of the hills and rose to meet them as they climbed, peering at them over the summit through the shaggy eyebrow of the gorse.
Boy walked beside the old mare, throwing every now and then swift and surreptitious glances at her new treasure. She was fearful lest the young man leading his pony on the foot-track at her side should think her a baby and over-keen.
Once only he spoke to her, and that clearly with the difficulty of the shy.
"What shall you cuc-call her?" he asked.
"I don't know," she answered.
She longed to help him, but when the chance came she could only snub him. That was always the way with Boy, when she was in touch with somebody she liked.
Old Mat came unconsciously to the rescue.
"Why, Four Pound, o' course," he panted, labouring up the hill, his hands on his knees.