The Herd Boy and His Hermit | Page 3

where
hast been? What hast thou there?'
'A sorely weary little lady, Daddy Hob, lost from the hawking folk
from the Priory,' responded Hal, panting a little as he set his burthen
down, and Hob's stronger arms received her.
Hal next asked whether the flock had come back under charge of Piers,
and was answered that all were safely at home, and after 'telling the
tale' Hob had set out to find him. 'Thou shouldst not stray so far,' he
said.
'I heard the maid cry, and went after her,' said Hal, 'all the way to the

Blackreed Moss, and the springs, and 'twas hard getting over the
swamp.'
'Well indeed ye were not both swallowed in it,' said Hob; 'God be
praised for bringing you through! Poor wee bairn! Thou hast come far!
From whence didst say?'
'From Greystone Priory,' wearily said the girl, who had her head down
on Hob's shoulder, and seemed ready to fall asleep there.
'Her horse fell with her, and they were too bent on their sport to heed
her,' explained the boy, as he trudged along beside Hob and his charge,
'so she wandered on foot till by good hap I heard her moan.'
'Ay, there will be a rare coil to-night for having missed her,' said Hob;
'but I've heard tell, my Lady Prioress heeds her hawks more than her
nuns! But be she who she may, we'll have her home, and Mother Doll
shall see to her, for she needs it sure, poor bairn. She is asleep already.'
So she was, with her head nestled into the shepherd's neck, nor did she
waken when after a tramp of more than a mile the bleatings of the
folded sheep announced that they were nearly arrived, and in the low
doorway there shone a light, and in the light stood a motherly form, in a
white woollen hood and dark serge dress. Tired as he was, Hal ran on
to her, exclaiming 'All well, Mammy Doll?'
'Ah well!' she answered, 'thank the good God! I was in fear for thee, my
boy! What's that Daddy hath? A strayed lamb?'
'Nay, Mammy, but a strayed maiden! 'Twas that kept me so long. I had
to bear her through the burn at Blackreed, and drag her on as best I
might, and she is worn out and weary.'
'Ay,' said Hob, as he came up. 'How now, my bit lassie?' as he put her
into the outstretched arms of his wife, who sat down on the settle to
receive her, still not half awake.
'She is well-nigh clemmed,' said Hal. 'She has had no bite nor sup all
day, since her pony fell with her out a-hawking, and all were so hot on
the chase that none heeded her.'
Mother Doll's exclamations of pity were profuse. There was a kettle of
broth on the peat fire, and after placing the girl in a corner of the settle,
she filled three wooden bowls, two of which she placed before Hal and
the shepherd, making signs to the heavy-browed Piers to wait; and
getting no reply from her worn-out guest, she took her in her arms, and
fed her from a wooden spoon. Though without clear waking, mouthfuls

were swallowed down, till the bowl was filled again and set before
Piers.
'There, that will be enough this day!' said the good dame. 'Poor bairn!
'Twas scurvy treatment. Now will we put her to bed, and in the morn
we will see how to deal with her.'
Hal insisted that the little lady should have his own bed--a chaff-
stuffed mattress, covered with a woollen rug, in the recess behind the
projecting hearth--a strange luxury for a farm boy; and Doll yielded
very unwillingly when he spoke in a tone that savoured of command.
The shaggy Piers had already curled himself up in a corner and gone to
sleep.

CHAPTER II
. THE SNOW-STORM

Yet stay, fair lady, rest awhile Beneath the cottage wall; See, through
the hawthorns blows the cold wind, And drizzling rain doth fall.--OLD
BALLAD.
Though Hal had gone to sleep very tired the night before, and only on a
pile of hay, curled up with Watch, having yielded his own bed to the
strange guest, he was awake before the sun, for it was the decline of the
year, and the dawn was not early.
He was not the first awake--Hob and Piers were already busy on the
outside, and Mother Doll had emerged from the box bed which made
almost a separate apartment, and was raking together the peat, so as to
revive the slumbering fire. The hovel, for it was hardly more, was built
of rough stone and thatched with reeds, with large stones to keep the
roof down in the high