“Ah, steps out, doesn’t she?” said the farmer, with a gratified chuckle. “You won’t beat her for pace this side of the county. She was bred at Leas Farm, and she’s a credit to it.”
They were now clear of the town, and had turned off the dusty high-road into a lane, with high hedges on either side.
“Oh, how pretty!” cried Anna.
She could see over these hedges, across the straggling wreaths of dog-roses and clematis, to the meadows on either hand, where the tall grass, sprinkled with silvery ox-eyed daisies, stood ready for hay. Beyond these again came the deep brown of some ploughed land, and now and then bits of upland pasture, with cows and sheep feeding. The river Dorn, which Mr Oswald had pointed out from the town, wound its zigzag course along the valley, which they were now leaving behind them. As they mounted a steep hill, Molly had considerably slackened her speed, so that Anna could look about at her ease and observe all this.
“What a beautiful place this is!” she exclaimed with delight.
“Well enough,” said the farmer; “nice open country. Yonder pasture, where the cows are, belongs to me; if you’re stopping at Waverley, missie, I can show you a goodish lot of cows at Leas Farm.”
“Oh, I should love to see them!” said Anna.
“My little daughter ’ll be proud to show ’em yer; she’s just twelve years old, Daisy is. Now, you wouldn’t guess what I gave her as a birthday present?”
“No,” said Anna; “I can’t guess at all.”
“’Twas as pretty a calf as you ever saw, with a white star on its forehead. Nothing would do after that but I must buy her a collar for it. ‘Puppa,’ she says, ‘when you go into Dornton, you must get me a collar and a bell, like there is in my picture-book.’ My word!” said the farmer, slapping his knee, “how all the beasts carried on when they first heard that bell in the farmyard! You never saw such antics! It was like as if they were clean mad!”