coom, an' ye can teach me if ye've a mind. If ye dunnot see me when ye
coom to th' top o' hill, jest call out 'Cockle Sally! Cockle Sally!'
an' I'll coom."

"No; that's an ugly name," said John, who had been idly watching the
play of the sunbeams on the little curling strands of hair which were
lightly lifted by the summer breeze. "I could find you a better name
than that, I think. You look like--"

He paused.

"What do I look like?" inquired Sally.

John's glance once more travelled over her whole figure. The faded
buff jacket, the not altogether immaculate apron of unbleached calico,
were transfigured by the all-pervading sunshine; golden lights
outlined the tanned face and hands; as for the hair, it was at that
moment a very glory.

"I reckon I'd call you Golden Sally," he said with a laugh. "You look
as if you were made of gold this morning, and I'll engage you're as
good as gold," he added gallantly.

"Coom, that's too fine a name for me," cried Sally, well pleased,
nevertheless, and smiling broadly.

"I'll christen you by it all the same," replied John, smiling too.
"You must be good and mind what I tell you," he added with mock
severity. "If you don't, I must find some other name for you."