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 in summer because the hedges are so high and the leaves are so thick and the air can't get through!... Look! Look!" She climbed on to the bars of a gate, and pointed, and he climbed on to the bars beside her, and saw the English Channel, shining like a sheet of silver in the setting sun. "Can you see the trawlers coming home?" she said. "Out there! Do you see? Those are our boats ... the Boveyhayne boats. That one with the brown sails is Tom Yeo's boat. He's awf'lly nice and his wife's going to have a baby. He told me so, and they hope it'll be a boy because Jim Rattenbury--that's Tom Yeo's mate in the boat ... his wife had a daughter last month, and they all think it would be awf'lly nice if Tom's son were to grow up and marry Jim's daughter, and I think it would, and of course it would, wouldn't it?" "Would it?" said Henry. "Of course it would. It would be so nice for everybody, and then the boat could be left to Tom's son and it would belong to Jim's daughter, too. I think that would be _very_ nice! I do hope they've caught a lot of fish!" She jumped down from the gate and clapped her hands together. "I know," she said. "We won't pluck primroses now. We'll go home and simply swallow our tea like lightning, and then we'll tear down to the beach and see them landing the fish. Come on, let's run!" She started off and then suddenly checked herself and said, "Oh, I think I'd better call you 'Quinny,' like Ninian. It'll save a lot of trouble, won't it? Mother won't call you that. She'll probably call you 'Henry' or 'Harry.' If we hurry up, we'll be just in time to see the boats beached!" She ran off, laughing pleasantly, and he followed after her. "That's the copse," she shouted, pointing to the trees on her left. "We'll soon be there!"