One day in April she took a bottle of warm milk and a bit of sponge and went up Calder Fell. On the first reach of the fell she found a dying lamb, and carried it down to the shelter of some whin-bushes. Then she fed it with the warm milk, and the little creature went to sleep in her arms. The grass was green and fresh, the sun warm; the whins sheltered her from the wind, and a little thrush in them, busy building her nest, was making sweet music out of air as sweet. All was so glad and quiet: she, too, was happy in her own thoughts. A wagon passed, and then a tax-cart, and afterward two old men going ditching. She hardly lifted her head; every one knew Aspatria Anneys. When the shadows told her that it was near noon, she rose to go home, holding the lamb in her arms. At that moment a carriage came slowly from behind the hedge. She saw the fine horses with their glittering harness, and knew it was a strange vehicle in Ambar-Side, so she sat down again until it should pass. The lamb was in her left arm. She threw back her head, and gazed fixedly into the whin-bush where the thrush had its nest. Whoever it was, she did not wish to be recognized. Lady Redware, Sarah Sandys, and Ulfar Fenwick were in the carriage. At the moment she stood with the lamb in her arms, Ulfar had known his wife. Lady Redware saw her almost as quickly, and in some occult way she transferred, by a glance, the knowledge to Sarah. The carriage was going very slowly; the beauty of the thrown-back head, the simplicity of her dress, the pastoral charm of her position, all were distinct. Ulfar looked at her with a fire of passion in his eyes, Lady Redware with annoyance. Sarah asked, with a mocking laugh, "Is that really Little Bo Peep?" The joke fell flat. Ulfar did not immediately answer it; and Sarah was piqued. "I shall go to Italy again," she said. "Englishmen may be admirable _en masse_, but individually they are stupid or cross." "In Italy there are the Capuchins," answered Ulfar. He remembered that Sarah had expressed herself strongly about the order. "I have just passed a week at Oxford among the Reverends; all things considered, I prefer the Capuchins. When you have dined with a lord bishop, you want to become a socialist." "Your Oxford friends are very nice people, Sarah." "Excellent people, Elizabeth, quite superior people, and they are all sure not only of going to heaven, but also of joining the very best society the place affords." "Best society!" said Ulfar, pettishly. "I am going to America. There, I hope, I shall hear nothing about it." "America is so truly admirable. Why was it put in such an out-of-the-way place? You have to sail three thousand miles to get to it," pouted Sarah. "All things worth having are put out of the way," replied Ulfar. "Yes," sighed Sarah. "What an admirable story is that of the serpent and the apple!" "Come, Ulfar!" said Lady Redware, "do try to be agreeable. You used to be so delightful! Was he not, Sarah?"