“That it is and every hour of it.”
“He will be across the whole flat world since he left,” said the mother, looking fixedly at an awkward, ungainly calf which had just blundered into the house, but seeing far beyond. “He will maybe send five pounds in gold in the letter.”
“Maybe. But you are not thinking of that, mother?” said Norah.
“And what would you be thinking of, then?” asked the old woman.
“I am wondering if he is in good health and happy.”
“The young are always happy, Norah. Are you not?”
“Sometimes. I am happy when out in the open, listening to the birds singing, and the wind running on the heather.”
“Who ever heard of a person listening to things like those? Are you not happy in God’s house on a Sunday?”
“Oh, I am happy there as well,” answered Norah, but there was a hint of hesitation in the answer.
“Everyone that is good of heart is happy in God’s house,” said the mother. “Have you turned the heel of the stocking yet?”