"Stay there!" said Verty.
And smiling, he walked on.
Redbud laughed, and turning round made signs to the dog to follow them. Longears, however, only moved his head uneasily, and wagged his tail with eloquent remonstrance.
"Let him come, Verty," said the girl.
Verty smiled, and made a movement of the hand, which, from the distance of a hundred yards, raised Longears three feet into the air. Returning from this elevation to the earth again, he darted off over the fields after the bees and swallows.
The young men and their companions smiled, and strolled on. They reached the old orchard, and ran about among the trees picking up apples—now the little soft yellow crab apples—then the huge, round, ruddy pippins—next the golden-coat bell apples, oblong and mellow, which had dropped from pure ripeness from the autumn boughs.
Verty had often climbed into the old trees, and filled his cap with the speckled eggs of black-birds, or found upon the fence here, embowered in the foliage, the slight nests of doves, each with its two eggs, white and transparent almost; and the recollection made him smile.
They gathered a number of the apples, and then strolled on, and eat a moment with the pleasant overseer's wife.
A number of little curly-headed boys had been rolling like apples on the grass as they approached; fat-armed and chubby-legged, and making devoted advances to Longears, who, descending from his dignity, rolled with them in the sunshine. These now approached, and the young girls patted their heads, and Mr. Ralph gave them some paternal advice, and the good housewife, spinning in her cane-bottom chair with straight tall back, smiled pleasantly, and curtsied.
The baby (there always was a baby at the overseer's) soon made his appearance, as babies will do everywhere; and then the unfortunate young curly-heads of riper age were forced to return once more to the grass and play with Longears—they were forgotten.