"Wonderful. Be careful not to nip her, Hugh."
McKay laughed. "I never cut a sheep in my life, sir. And there's the fleece all complete in one piece for ye. Get up, Rosebud. Are ye wantin' to lie all day?"
She sprang suddenly to her feet and ran bleating to her twin lambs, who stared in stupefication, scarce recognizing their dingy, rotund mother in this skipping, snow-white creature. They nosed her for a moment and then, ferociously, began to suck.
There was a guffaw from Newbigging, Gunn, and Phœbe, but McKay smiled tenderly at his handiwork.
"We'll be hæin' a new wee lamb afore the morn," he whispered to Vale.
"Really?" Derek looked speculatively over the little flock.
"It's Nonesopretty, over yon. I like the new lambs awful well. I wish ye'd get more sheep, Mr. Vale. This is a paltry few. I could do with five times as many."
"I bought a cow and calf at the sale," said Derek.
Phœbe overheard. "A cow from Jerrold's!" she cried. "Mrs. Machin will be in a fine taking. She hates them Holsteins. She says the milk's so poor you could see a silver coin lying in the bottom of a pail of it."
"I did not buy the cow to please her," said Derek sternly.
Nothing abashed, Phœbe chattered on. McKay caught another sheep and began shearing it. Presently they saw Windmill driving Gretta van Lowe through the gateway, her thick-legged milk-white calf gambolling at her side. Windmill drove her gently with an air of importance. As she came up to the group by the stream they closed about her, admiring her fine proportions and looking into her large, sad face. Newbigging caught the calf by the head and held him still.
