DAPHNE
entertains a great deal, and she always needs me to help her. That has been fun, too."
"Then it has been religion and dinners," he summarized briefly.
"It has."
"With a Puritan ancestry, I suppose?"
"For a god," murmured Daphne, "it seems to me you know a great deal too much about some things, and not enough about others."
"I have brought you something," he said, suddenly changing the subject.
He lifted the sheepskin coat and held out to her a tiny lamb, whose heavy legs hung helpless, and whose skin shone pink through the little curls of wool. The girl stretched out her arms and gathered the little creature in them.
"A warm place to lie, and warm milk are what it needs," he said. "It was born out of its time, and its mother lies dead on the hills. Spring is for birth, not autumn."
Daphne watched him as he went back to his
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