And then it flew away towards the sunny village, for it had work to do there.
***
It was afternoon now; the little mother took a basket on one arm and the child’s little hand into hers, and they left the cottage. She had never been to the village, but she knew that it was situated somewhere towards sunset, on the other side of the island, and the farmer had told her that she would have to get over six stiles and walk through six latticed gates before she could get there.
And on they went.
Their way lay along a footpath, full of stones and old tree-roots, so that she was obliged to carry the little girl, and that was very hard work. The doctor had told her that the child must not strain her left foot, because it was so weak that it might easily have grown deformed.
The young mother staggered along, under her beloved burden, and large beads of perspiration stood like pearls on her forehead, for it was very hot in the wood.
“I am so thirsty, mammy,” whispered the little, complaining voice.
“Have patience, darling, there will be plenty of water when we get there.”
And she kissed the little parched mouth, and the child smiled and forgot all about her thirst.
But the scorching rays of the sun burned their skin and there was not a breath of air in the wood.