and she said she was very well,
and then she smiled again, and so Henry smiled too.

Ninian had moved on up the lane. "Buck up, you two!" he said. "I'm
hungry!" He started to run, thinking of tea, and then he suddenly
checked himself and came back. "I say, Mary," he said, "Quinny's
fearfully gone on wildflowers and birds and ... and Nature ... and that
sort of stuff. Show him the primroses and things, will you? I've got an
awful hunger and I want to see the mater. Oh, Quinny, these are
primroses, these yellow things, and Mary'll show you anything else you
want to see. There's a jolly lot of honeysuckle and hazelnuts in these
hedges later on. So long!" He went off again, running in a heavy,
lumbering fashion because of the ascent and the broken, stony ground.

Henry stood still, waiting for Mary to make a decision. He could not
think of anything to say and so he just smiled. He began to feel hot and
uncomfortable, and it seemed to him suddenly that Mary must think he
was a frightful fool, maundering about primroses and wild violets and
bluebells, and yet not able to say a word for himself in her presence
... standing there, grinning like ... like anything, and ... and not
saying a word.

She was standing sideways, with her head turned to look at her brother,
now disappearing round a bend in the lane, and Henry was able to observe
her more closely. He saw that she was wearing a short frock, reaching to
her knees, and he plucked up heart. "She's only a kid," he said to
himself, and then said aloud to her, "It's awf'lly nice here!"

She turned towards him as he spoke and he saw that her face was still
smiling. "Yes, isn't it?" she answered. "Shall we go on now, or would
you like to gather some primroses. There are lots in this lane, or if
you like to walk up to the copse, there are more there, and we can mix
them with bluebells. I think primroses and bluebells are lovely
together, don't you?"

He thought it would be nicer to go to the copse, and so they moved on up
the lane.

"I like these high hedges," he said. "We don't have high hedges in
Ireland. In lots of places we don't have hedges at all--only stone
walls!"

Mary made a grimace. "I shouldn't like that," she exclaimed. "I love
hedges ... best in the spring because then they're new. There's always
something living in them. I never go by the hedges without hearing
something moving inside ... birds and mice and things. Of course, it's
very stuffy in the lanes i