“Do you mean the people who stared at us so through the race-glass?”
“No, I don’t, Miss Forgetful. I mean the big, dark man, and the funny, little fierce fellow with his hair brushed into points. You don’t remember, I suppose?”
“Oh yes,” said Tiny, quietly. “I remember, for I was very much frightened.”
“Ah, I hope the knight-errant wasn’t hurt; and, oh, do look, Tiny,” Fin cried, putting down her basket. “What’s that growing in that tree?”
As she spoke, she climbed from stone to stone up the steep bank, till she was stopped short by her dress being caught by a bramble.
“Oh, Tiny, come and unloose me, do. I’m caught.”
There was nothing for it but that her sister should clamber up the bank, and unhook the dress, which she did, when Fin gave her a hand, and drew her up to her side.
“What a tomboy you do keep, Fin,” said Tiny, panting; “see how my dress is torn.”
“Never mind, I’ll sew it up for you. What’s the good of living in the country if you can’t be free as the birds? Sweet, sweet, sweet! Oh, you beauty!” she cried, as a goldfinch sounded his merry lay. “Tiny, shouldn’t you like to be a bird?”
“No,” was the quiet reply. “I would rather be what I am.”