Chapter Four.
The Tinkers.
After Larry and Eileen had gone around the turn in the road there were no houses in sight for quite a long distance.
On one side of the road stretched the brown bog, with here and there a pool of water in it which shone bright in the colours of the setting sun. It was gay, too, with patches of yellow buttercups, of primroses, and golden whins. The whins had been in bloom since Easter, for Larry and Eileen had gathered the yellow flowers to dye their Easter eggs. On the other side of the road the land rose a little, and was so covered with stones that it seemed as if there were no earth left for things to grow in. Yet the mountain fern took root there and made the rocks gay with its green fronds.
The sun was so low that their shadows stretched far across the bogland beside them as the Twins trudged along.
Three black ravens were flying overhead, and a lark was singing its evening song.
Eileen looked up in the sky. “There’s the ghost of a moon up there! Look, Larry,” she said.
Larry looked up. There floating high above them, was a pale, pale moon, almost the colour of the sky itself. “It looks queer and lonesome up there,” he said, “and there’s no luck at all in three ravens flying. They’ll be putting a grudge on somebody’s cow, maybe. I wonder where the little lark does be hiding herself.”
Larry was still looking up in the sky for the little lark, when Eileen suddenly seized his arm. “Whist, Larry,” she whispered. “Look before you on the road!”