Bertie looked up at the sky, but could tell nothing about the time.
"It takes experience to do it," said the man, laughing at his perplexed look. "I've had thirty-eight years to learn."
Bertie resolved to ask his father to explain how the sun could be made to tell the time, and then not seeing him anywhere about, untied Whitefoot, who had pulled away to the length of the rein, and was trying to snatch a few mouthfuls of grass, and rode away to the farm.
CHAPTER X.
BERTIE AND WINNIE.
One morning, about a week after the ride to the quarry, Bertie took his sister Winnie in his donkey carriage and drove her to Woodlawn. It was a pretty sight, and many of the villagers stopped with a smile to gaze after them. Herbert with his clear blue eyes so like his father's, his chestnut hair waving off his forehead, his bright, healthy complexion and pleasant smile: Winnie with her close auburn curls, her laughing brown eyes and cherry lips, formed a picture not often seen. Each of them wore a straw hat to shade their eyes from the sun, and the voice of Winnie sounded like the warbling of a bird, as she gayly echoed her brother's laugh.