‘Because—because I was kneeling, and praying, and weeping with the rest of ’em at the altar rails. In medicine this is called the Hysterical Passion. It may be—it may be.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Puck. They heard him turn the hay. ‘Why, your hay is half hedge-brishings,’ he said. ‘You don’t expect a horse to thrive on oak and ash and thorn leaves, do you?’
Ping-ping-ping went the bicycle bell round the corner. Nurse was coming back from the Mill.
‘Is it all right?’ Una called.
‘All quite right,’ Nurse called back. ‘They’re to be christened next Sunday.’
‘What? What?’ They both leaned forward across the half-door. It could not have been properly fastened, for it opened, and tilted them out with hay and leaves sticking all over them.
‘Come on! We must get those two twins’ names,’ said Una, and they charged up-hill shouting over the hedge, till Nurse slowed up and told them.
When they returned, old Middenboro had got out of his stall, and they spent a lively ten minutes chasing him in again by starlight.