“Very near—or, perhaps—I mid say—”
“I mid ha’ been summat very like a angel,” replied Ann-Car’line, squatting back on her heels and looking at him seriously. “I mid ha’ been a fairy.”
Here she lowered her voice and looked round cautiously.
“What do you mean?” enquired Timothy, stooping over her and speaking in the same tone.
“Hush! It’s a secret. Don’t let mother hear ye!”
The shepherd straightened himself again. “Ah, you’ve got secrets,” he said dispassionately; “yes, young maids has secrets what they don’t like the wold folks to hear on. But secrets is dangerous, my girl.”
And thereupon Timothy fingered the watch once more.
“There, what be so long a-doin’ for?” called out a sharp female voice from within the cottage. “I could ha’ cleaned that doorstep forty times while thou’rt thinkin’ on it.”
Ann-Car’line gathered up pail and brush, and hastened indoors, leaving Timothy to meditate on her mysterious words as he made his way towards the fold.
He frowned as he walked along, and struck at the hedge savagely with his crook.