"Where's your aunt?"
"Here, Ma'am!" said he — "can't you let this child go with me?
I want her along to help feed the sheep."
To Ellen's astonishment, her aunt called to her through the
closed door to "go along, and leave the beans till she came
back." Joyfully Ellen obeyed. She turned her back upon the
beans, careless of the big heap which would still be there to
pick over when she returned, and ran to get her bonnet. In all
the time she had been at Thirlwall, something had always
prevented her seeing the sheep fed with salt, and she went
eagerly out of the door with Mr. Van Brunt to a new pleasure.
They crossed two or three meadows back of the barn, to a low
rocky hill covered with trees. On the other side of this, they
came to a fine field of spring wheat. Footsteps must not go
over the young grain; Ellen and Mr. Van Brunt coasted
carefully round by the fence to another piece of rocky
woodland, that lay on the far side of the wheat-field. It was
a very fine afternoon. The grass was green in the meadow; the
trees were beginning to show their leaves; the air was soft
and spring-like. In great glee Ellen danced along, luckily
needing no entertainment from Mr. Van Brunt, who was devoted
to his salt-pan. His natural taciturnity seemed greater than
ever; he amused himself all the way over the meadow, with
turning over his salt and tasting it, till Ellen laughingly
told him, she believed he was as fond of it as the sheep were;
and then he took to chucking little bits of it right and left,
at anything he saw that was big enough to serve for a mark.
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