"He has lived all his life here, you see When he was quite a baby a flash of lightning blinded him; but now he knows his way everywhere about, and he can do almost all the farm-work. Sometimes he has a boy to help him; but just now, they’re harvesting at our neighbour’s, and the boy has gone down to help. But it makes my son rather slow in his ploughing, for he has to guide himself by feeling with his feet the last furrow he has made." "Oh, I could lead the horses for him," the Queen said. And the mother answered, "Yes, do, my dear; and you can take your dinner out with you. His dog always fetches his for him." So the Queen finished her breakfast, and then set out along the valley towards the ploughing place. By daylight she could see better how pleasant a place the valley was, very green in the bottom, with here and there a pollard willow by the stream, and here and there linen laid out to bleach on the grass. But the steep hills that shut it in were purple with heather, and brown with bracken, and, now and then, a lonely thorn tree. Behind her was the little white cottage, with a cluster of trees drawn down around it, and with the ducks and turkeys and chickens crowding the valley in front of it. Indeed, every now and then along the valley a lily-white duck would pop its golden-billed head out of the reeds and meadow-sweet of the stream to look at her as she passed along. So she came to the hill where the valley made a sharp turn, and on the top of which she could see the ploughman. Up it she climbed through the heather, and speedily reached him. "I’ve come to lead the horses for you," she said. And he looked towards her and smiled. "That’s right," he said. "Then you’re not going away just yet. It’s better here than being shut up in a palace garden, with no one but a bat to talk to." "It is," the Queen said simply. So, through the autumn day, she led the horses up and down the furrows, whilst be drove the share deep into the ground. And through the blue sky, up the wind and down the wind, came the crows and starlings to feed on the worms that the plough turned up. So, late in the afternoon, they had come as far as he meant to go. "Further down the hill," he said, "the wheat would catch the north wind. So that’s enough for to-day, Queen Eldrida." "Don’t call me _Queen_ Eldrida, because, if I am a queen, I’m not your queen. Just call me Eldrida." "One name’s as good as another," he said, as he slipped on his coat. "Now let’s go home, and I’ll show you a little of the valley behind the house." So the Queen stayed for a while with them, and did as they did. And the blind man led her up the hills, and on the hilltops called the sheep, and from all sides they came to his call. And the Queen halved his work for him, and did those things which his want of sight prevented his doing. Sometimes she stayed to help the little mother indoors, but, on the whole, she preferred being out in the open air with the blind man.