With this resolution he made his way back to his charges; but throughout his oft broken slumbers that night he was haunted by the remembrance of Ann-Car’line’s secret; when he was not in fancy holding the watch in his hand or replacing it in its wrapper, he was sternly questioning the girl and receiving numerous and widely differing explanations of the mystery. When he went about his work at early dawn he frequently glanced in the direction of the hiding place, and saw in imagination the little round packet lying snug at the bottom of its hole. A chance passer-by on the rough track on the other side of the hedge made him start—would he be likely to detect that the earth had been recently disturbed in that particular spot which Timothy knew of? Even when Mr Hounsell came up as usual to inspect the little flock, Timothy was careful to place himself immediately in front of him, whenever the farmer chanced to glance in the direction in question; so that his own burly form might serve as a screen to Ann-Car’line’s indiscretion. “What be you a-turnin’ and a-turnin’ round me like that for?” enquired his master presently, with some sternness. “There you do make I quite giddy. You be jist same as a weathercock.” Timothy had no answer ready on the moment; he looked up at the sky, and then at the distant horizon, and finally remarked that he didn’t think the wind was shiftin’ that much. “I don’t say it be,” responded the farmer emphatically, “but I do say as you mid be a weathercock the way you do go on a-twistin’ and a-turnin’—there ye be again! What be the matter, man?” Timothy set his hat more firmly on his head, cleared his throat, spat in his hands, and caught up a pitchfork, remarking that there was a deal to be seen to, and that weathercock or no weathercock, he ought to be shakin’ out the straw. “There’s one o’ the ewes here as I don’t so very well like the looks on,” he said persuasively, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards a quarter which he felt to be perfectly safe. Thereupon Mr Hounsell forgot to animadvert further on his underling’s oddities, and immediately became immersed in more practical matters. By chance the shepherd was obliged to betake himself to the farm that day on some errand; and, as he was hurrying back to his charges, he encountered Ann-Car’line, leisurely driving a flock of ducks towards a wayside pond. She had slung her sun-bonnet on one arm, so that her pretty hair caught such pale sunshine as was available on that November afternoon; and in one hand she held a long elder switch with a few yellow leaves dandling at its extremity. She responded to Timothy’s greeting with perfect serenity, her placid blue eyes appearing more limpid even than usual as she returned his gaze. When he was a few paces away from her, picking his steps carefully among her waddling flock, he heard her trill out a song as suddenly and sweetly as a robin might have done.