“Yes, and I’ve put three. There, these are all the eggs I’ve got, and you mind you don’t break ’em!”
“Oh, I say, mother,” cried Ram, “aren’t it heavy!”
“Nonsense! I could carry it on my finger; there, run along like a good boy, and you must ask for her ladyship, and be very respectful, and say, Mother’s humble duty to you, my lady, and hopes you won’t mind her sending a bit o’ farm fare.”
“But she ought to be thankful to us, mother?”
“And so she will be, Ram?”
“But you make me speak as though we were to be much obliged to her for taking all these good things.”
“You take the basket, and hold your tongue. Father’s right, you chatter a deal too much.”
Ram took the basket, grunted because it was so heavy, and then set off up the hill-slope towards where the patch of thick woodland capped one side of the deep valley, and at last came in sight of a grim-looking stone house, with its windows for the most part covered by their drawn-down blinds. Under other circumstances, with fairly kept gardens and trim borders, the old-fashioned building, dating from the days of Henry the Seventh, would have been attractive enough, with its background of trees, and fine view along the valley out to the far-stretching blue sea; but poverty seemed to have set its mark upon the place, and the boy was so impressed by the gloomy aspect of the house, that he ceased whistling as he went across the front, outside the low wall, and round to the back, where his progress was stopped by the scampering of feet, and a dog came up, barking loudly.
“Get out, or I’ll jump on you—d’ye hear?” said Ram fiercely.
“Down, Grip, down!” cried a pleasant voice, and a girl of fifteen came running out, looking bright and animated with her flushed cheeks and long hair.