ANN-CAR’LINE
Lambing time is a very important epoch to farming folk, and particularly to farming folk in Dorset. The popular idea which associates the advent of these innocents with primroses and daffodils, budding hedges, and all the other adjuncts of spring does not obtain in this pre-eminently sheep-rearing county. It is in November when days are at their shortest, when the earth is at its barest, when cold rain falls, and not infrequently sleet or “snow-stuff,” as it is locally called, that the misguided younglings of the flock look their first upon a sodden and gloomy world. Midway in October their quarters are got in readiness, preferably in a corner of some upland field; the shepherd’s wheeled hut takes up its position in the midst of a sheltered space in the lewth of the hedge, straw-padded hurdles mark the enclosure, and sundry pens are made ready for the new arrivals and their dams. By day the shepherd himself may be seen, crook in hand and dog at heel, taking stock of his premises; and often at dusk the uncertain light of his lantern may be noted from afar.
On one particularly gloomy November evening young Timothy Kiddle, Farmer Hounsell’s new shepherd, made a careful inspection of his charges, lantern in hand; and after completing the tour of the fold sat down in an angle of the hurdle fence to smoke a quiet pipe. His hut had not yet been conveyed to its destined site, and till now he had slept at home; but one of the ewes seemed somewhat uneasy in her mind, and all things considered Timothy decided that it would be better to spend the night amid his charges.
He intended, of course, to watch, but having been exceptionally busy all day, soon dozed, and presently indeed fell into a sound sleep. This was no doubt highly reprehensible under the circumstances, particularly when one remembers that a lighted pipe was between his teeth, and that the whole place was strewn with straw.
He awoke with a start and a terrific throb of conscience, and was relieved to find himself in the dark; his pipe had dropped harmlessly into his lap, and the very lantern had burnt itself out. He rolled on to his knees, feeling cramped after his long sitting, and was about to stand upright when his attention was suddenly arrested by a curious sight.
At the further end of the long field, outlined against the hedge, and thrown into strong relief by the light of a lantern which stood on the ground beside her, was a girl, digging. He could see her distinctly, and could even note that she wore a white apron, that her sleeves were tucked up, and that she had no hat or covering of any kind on her head. She laboured with a will, but presently flung aside her spade, and, kneeling down, drew something from her bosom which she thrust into the hole she had made. As she bent over it, Timothy watching breathlessly from his post behind the hurdles saw and recognised her face. It was Ann-Car’line Bartlett, who lived in one of the cottages down in the dip yonder. Timothy had seen her several times, for she came regularly twice a day to buy milk at Hounsell’s farm. She had even seemed to him a nice, modest, quiet-spoken maid, and he wondered much at the nature of the task she was now accomplishing. Soon she was on her feet again, shovelling back the earth with feverish energy; then, taking up her lantern, she stepped towards the hedge, and stood there for a moment or two; but her back was turned towards Timothy, and, crane his neck as he might, he could not see what she was doing. Presently she turned about again, caught up her spade, and, squeezing herself through a gap in the hedge, walked away down the lane.
Timothy rose cautiously to his feet and looked after the bobbing lantern till it vanished from his sight, and then, feeling in his pocket for a fresh bit of candle, put it into his lantern, lit it, and ran to inspect the mysterious spot. First he examined the hedge, and after a minute scrutiny discovered a small cross cut deep into the bark of a stout holly sapling, which was evidently intended to serve as a landmark; next, carefully inspecting the ground in the neighbourhood, he came to the place where the earth had been recently disturbed. The field was a turnip field, and it would have been difficult on the morrow to distinguish the precise locality without some such precaution as the girl had taken; as Timothy knelt down to pursue his investigations he mentally commended her wisdom.
Depositing his lantern on the ground he scratched away the loose earth with his vigorous hands, and presently came to a little bundle. This, on being withdrawn and held to the light, proved to be a cheap printed cotton handkerchief which was carefully knotted about something hard and round. Timothy breathlessly removed this outer covering, and discovered to his astonishment a gold watch. A gentleman’s gold watch, as he said to himself, for it was a fairly large size, and there was a monogram on the lid, and two or three seals and charms—fallals Timothy dubbed them—appended to the ring.
Timothy sat back on his heels, opening eyes and mouth in astonishment.
“Well, I’m dalled!” he ejaculated under his breath. “That there nice, vitty little maid. Who’d ever think she’d be that artful. And that wicked!” he added severely.