Only one was lazily eating oats, dipping its nose into the manger.

It was still gray out-of-doors.

"Why are you up so early, my dear?" the old woman, their hostess, said, coming out of the hut and addressing him affectionately as an old friend.

"Going shooting, granny.

Do I go this way to the marsh?" "Straight out at the back; by our threshing floor, my dear, and hemp patches; there's a little footpath.