"Ah, I see. A pet lamb."

"Lamb! Shepherd!"

"One of my Shepherds?"

"The last time I go with his sheep. But not the last time he sees me. I
am sorry for him. He dodged me today."

"Do you mean to say"--she became animated--"that you have been out in
the wet keeping the sheep of Flea Thompson?"

"I had to." He blew on his fingers and took off his cap. Water trickled
over his unshaven cheeks. His hair was so wet that it seemed worked upon
his scalp in bronze.

"Get away, bad dog!" screamed the lady, for he had given himself a shake
and spattered her dress with water. He was a powerful boy of twenty,
admirably muscular, but rather too broad for his height. People called
him "Podge" until they were dissuaded. Then they called him "Stephen" or
"Mr. Wonham." Then he said, "You can call me Podge if you like."

"As for Flea--!" he began tempestuously. He sat down by her, and with
much heavy breathing told the story,--"Flea has a girl at Wintersbridge,
and I had to go with his sheep while he went to see her. Two hours. We
agreed. Half an hour to go, an hour to kiss his girl, and half an hour
back--and he had my bike. Four hours! Four hours and seven minutes I was
on the Rings, with a fool of a dog, and sheep doing all they knew to get
the turnips."

"My farm is a mystery to me," said the lady, stroking her fingers.

"Some day you must really take me to see it. It must be like a Gilbert
and Sullivan opera, with a chorus of agitated employers. How is it that
I have escaped? Why have I never been summoned to milk the cows, or flay
the pigs, or drive the young bullocks to the pasture?"

He looked at her with astonishingly blue eyes--the only dry things he
had about him. He could not see into her: she would have puzzled an
older and clever man. He may have seen round her.

"A thing of beauty you are not. But I sometimes think you are a joy for
ever."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, you understand right enough," she exclaimed irritably, and then
smiled, for he was conceited, and did not like being told that he was
not a thing of beauty. "Large and steady feet," she continued, "have
this disadvantage--you can knock down a man, but you will never knock
down a woman."

"I don't know what you mean. I'm not likely--"

"Oh, never mind--never, never mind. I was being funny. I repent. Tell me
about the sheep. Why did you go with them?"

"I did tell you. I had to."

"But why?"

"He had to see his girl."

"But why?"