Suddenly he noticed that the wet of her garments was dropping on the lamb. He hastily gathered it up in his arms.
"What a dear little creature!"
She spoke quite graciously, and Richard felt his spirits revive.
"His mother's dead, and I have to be looking after him, surelye."
"Poor little thing!"
She asked him a few questions about the lambing, then:
"You're one of Mr. Backfield's sons, are you not?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Richard."
"I've seen you before—in church, I think. Are you your father's shepherd?"