Meanwhile the boy had quickened his pace, and turning up a by-lane some mile and half short of the white farmstead, ascended towards the leaner pastures, and so on to the cottage of his mother.
She had reached home after her day's milking at the outlying dairy, and was washing cabbage at the door-way in the declining light. "Hold up the net a moment," she said, without preface, as the boy came up.
He flung down his bundle, held the edge of the cabbage-net, and as she filled its meshes with the dripping leaves she went on, "Well, did you see her?"
"Yes; quite plain."
"Is she ladylike?"
"Yes; and more. A lady complete."
"Is she young?"
"Well, she's growed up, and her ways be quite a woman's."
"Of course. What colour is her hair and face?"
"Her hair is lightish, and her face as comely as a live doll's."