Hazel had been sweet in the conquering; so many women were not. And she was a little, wild, frail thing. He was sorry for her. He reflected that if he sold the cob he could pay a first-rate doctor to attend her and two nurses. 'I'll sell the cob,' he decided. 'I can easily walk more. It'll do me good.'
'Good morning, Mr. Reddin!' cried Miss Clomber as sweetly as she could.
'May your shadow never grow less!' he replied jocosely, as he cantered by with a great laugh.
'If she'd only die when she has the child!' thought Miss Clomber fiercely.
Up on the Mountain Edward and Hazel were studying a map to decide in which part of the county they would live. Round the fire sat Foxy, the one-eyed cat, and the rabbit in a basket. From a hook hung the bird in its cage, making little chirrupings of content. On the window-sill a bowl of crocuses had pushed out white points.
But upon their love—Edward's dawn of content and Hazel's laughter—broke a loud imperious knocking. Edward went to the door. Outside stood Mr. James, the old man with the elf-locks who shared the honey prizes with Abel, two farmers from the other side of the Mountain, Martha's brother, and the man with the red braces who had won the race when Reddin turned.
They coughed.
'Will you come in?' asked Edward.
They straggled in, very much embarrassed.
Hazel wished them good morning.