“Those are puppa’s fields,” said the child, “and this is puppa’s farm.”
“You are Daisy Oswald, I suppose?” said Anna. “Your father asked me to come and see your cows.” The little girl nodded.
“I know what your name is,” she said. “You’re Miss Anna Forrest. Puppa fetched you over from the station. You came quick. Puppa was driving Strawberry Molly that day. No one can do it as quick as her.” Then, with a critical glance, “I can ride her. Can you ride?”
“No, indeed, I can’t,” replied Anna. “But won’t you show me your cows?”
“Why, it isn’t milking-time!” said Daisy, lifting her brows with a little surprise; “they’re all out in the field.” She considered Anna thoughtfully for a moment, and then added, jerking her head towards the next gate, “Won’t you come and sit on that gate? I often sit on that gate. Most every evening.”
The invitation was made with so much friendliness that Anna could not refuse it.
“I can’t stay long,” she said, “but I don’t mind a little while.”
Arrived at the gate, Daisy pushed mug and plate into Anna’s hands.
“Hold ’em a minute,” she said, as she climbed nimbly up and disposed herself comfortably on the top bar. “Now”—smoothing her pinafore tightly over her knees—“give ’em to me, and come up and sit alongside, and we’ll have ’em together. That’ll be fine.”
Anna was by no means so active and neat in her movements as her companion, for she was not used to climbing gates; but after some struggles, watched by Daisy with a chuckle of amusement, she succeeded in placing herself at her side. In this position they sat facing the Vicarage garden at the end of the field. It looked quite near, and Anna hoped that Aunt Sarah might not happen to come this way just at present.