“Oh, nice things!” cried Winnie, “how pretty they are, and how funny! I am glad they have come. I am glad I have seen them. I do hope they will be happy!”
“Not much doubt of that, little miss,” said the good-natured farmer, as he mounted his cart and took the reins. “They’ll be well looked after, I’ll be bound.”
“That they will!” cried Ronald, eagerly. “Aren’t they jolly birds, Winnie?”
Mr. and Mrs. Digby came down to see and admire the new comers; and after much talk about the many perfections of the guinea-fowl, they all walked back together to the house, discussing as they did so the number of chickens to be hatched in the spring.
Winifred’s face looked rather grave and wistful whilst this point was under discussion; but the smiles soon came back under the cheering influence of Ronald’s delight at their new treasures.
That night the weather changed suddenly. The wind shifted from south-west to south-east, and brought with it cold, drenching rain, and piercing blasts of wind, which rattled fiercely at door and window and would not be denied an entrance.
The leaves were whirled from the trees, the few flowers that remained were battered and knocked to pieces. The water-meadows began to show long furrows of glimmering silver, and the swallows gathered faster and faster every day. It seemed as if winter had come with one bound.
“It will come warmer again soon,” people said to one another. “This cold cannot last. We shall have soft, mild days again before long.”
And Winifred, when she heard them, said to herself:
“But the swallows will be gone before that.”