Sing, wind, in the broom-flowers there,
For you sing good-bye to an old despair.
(O the long, long days, that are done for ever!)
Gold broom, with the silken plume,
Laugh,’ says the wind, ‘because love dies never.’ ”
Maggie was so much absorbed in the song that she came forward a little from behind the root. Though Dan had not turned his head she saw that his watchful eyes were on her, and she prepared to move away. The girl turned round; her face was so sweet that Maggie spoke up.
“I was only listening to the song,” she said.
“Come and sit beside me,” said the singer. “My name is Rhoda. Who are you?”
“That’s the girl from our camp,” said Dan.
Long after he had gone back to feed the horses Maggie sat talking to her new friend. She told her all about Alfonso and the Cochin-Chinaman, and how they had all run away from the farm. Though Rhoda was grown up and could not understand fowls when they spoke, she listened with great interest, and Maggie promised to bring the two cocks to visit her. When she got home Dan was putting a rug on the chestnut horse, for the nights were growing colder. He seemed to look at her with a new interest.