They saw a girl on a chestnut horse, galloping towards the terrified, bleating sheep. She gained upon the great hound, came up with him, swung from her saddle, and caught him by the collar. After a moment or two she began to walk towards them through the weeds and brambles which overgrew the hill-side. As she came nearer they could see that she held a lamb beneath one arm. A tall, slight girl in a dark habit, with dark curls escaping about her forehead from her very correct pot hat. The hound followed meekly. “I am so very, very sorry,” she called out, while yet some distance off. “I am afraid my dog has hurt this poor little thing.” As she came closer Roden saw that there was blood on the lamb, and on the dog’s dripping jaws. “Please look at it,” the girl said, wofully. “I’m afraid nothing will ever break him. He will have to be sent away. They are your father’s sheep, aren’t they, Miss Herrick--you are Miss Herrick?” Virginia lifted her full look to the stranger’s face. “Yes, that’s my name,” she answered. “Why don’t you muzzle him, or keep him chained? He’ll get shot some day.” The girl looked sadly down at her huge pet. “I’m afraid he will,” she said, gently. “I wish he wouldn’t do it. I can’t feel the same to him. Ah, you beast!”--this last to the recreant Laurin, in a tone of wrath. In the mean time Roden had finished his examination of the lamb. “I don’t think it’s serious,” he said, kindly; “but it will have to be looked after a bit. Miss Herrick here will doctor it successfully, I’ve no doubt.” “Oh, couldn’t I have it?” said the girl, eagerly. “I’m such a good hand at curing things. Do let me have it, Miss Herrick.” “Take it if you want it,” said Virginia. “But cannot you have it sent?” said Roden, as the girl held out her hand for the lamb. “I am afraid you will get blood all over your habit, Miss--” He had not meant to fish for her name, and stopped abruptly. She looked at him with a soft smiling of lips and eyes. “My name is Erroll--Mary Erroll,” she said. “And thank you, I would rather take it. Laurin will follow me now. _Ah_, you beast!” “You will have to put it down until you mount,” said Roden, laughing a little in spite of himself, as the old lines about Mary and her little lamb crossed his mind. “Oh no, I wouldn’t put it down,” she said, hastily. “Miss Herrick will hold it for me, won’t you?--and if you would be so kind as to mount me, Mr. Roden.” “You know my name?” said Roden, as he took the slight foot, arched like Bonnibel’s crest, into his hand.