‘Not believe me?’
With feigned indignation, he moved to capture her again; but Nancy escaped. Her hat in her hand, she darted forward. A minute’s run brought her into the open space, and there, with an exclamation of surprise, she stopped. Tarrant, but a step or two behind her, saw at almost the same moment the spectacle which had arrested her flight. Before them stood two little donkeys munching eagerly at a crop of rosy-headed thistles. They—the human beings—looked at each other; Tarrant burst into extravagant laughter, and Nancy joined him. Neither’s mirth was spontaneous; Nancy’s had a note of nervous tension, a ring of something like recklessness.
‘Where can they come from?’ she asked.
‘They must have strayed a long way. I haven’t seen any farm or cottage.—But perhaps some one is with them. Wait, I’ll go on a little, and see if some boy is hanging about.’
He turned the sharp corner, and disappeared. For two or three minutes Nancy stood alone, watching the patient little grey beasts, whose pendent ears, with many a turn and twitch, expressed their joy in the feast of thistles. She watched them in seeming only; her eyes beheld nothing.
A voice sounded from behind her—‘Nancy!’ Startled, she saw Tarrant standing high up, in a gap of the hedge, on the bank which bordered the wood.
‘How did you get there?’
‘Went round.’ He showed the direction with his hand. ‘I can see no one, but somebody may come. It’s wonderful here, among the trees. Come over.’
‘How can I?—We will drive the donkeys away.’
‘No; it’s much better here; a wild wood, full of wonderful things. The bank isn’t too steep. Give me your hand, and you can step up easily, just at this place.’