"Yes," said Pen, blushing, and looking straight ahead.
He clambered over the fence, and slid down the bank to her side. "I just put up my clover last week," he said in friendly fashion. "Next field on the left. Drive 'em in and let 'em crop awhile. You got plenty time."
Pen thanked him. He walked beside her, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes. He opened a gate for her, and the grateful sheep scattered inside to their breakfast.
"You come far?" he ventured.
Pen nodded.
"Come through the woods at night alone!"
"I had my dog."
"Well it's more than I would have done. Why didn't you ride a hoss?"
"I'm going up on the boat," said Pen. "Had no way of getting the horse back. The dog can find his own way of course."
"Well, you're a good plucky young lady, I'll say ... You'll find a good spring down at the foot of the slope, yonder. How about some breakfast, I'll be going home to mine, directly."