At this instant there appeared at the foot of the kopje two figures--the
one, a dog, white and sleek, one yellow ear hanging down over his left eye;
the other, his master, a lad of fourteen, and no other than the boy Waldo,
grown into a heavy, slouching youth of fourteen. The dog mounted the kopje
quickly, his master followed slowly. He wore an aged jacket much too large
for him, and rolled up at the wrists, and, as of old, a pair of dilapidated
velschoens and a felt hat. He stood before the two girls at last.

"What have you been doing today?" asked Lyndall, lifting her eyes to his
face.

"Looking after ewes and lambs below the dam. Here!" he said, holding out
his hand awkwardly, "I brought them for you."

There were a few green blades of tender grass.

"Where did you find them?"

"On the dam wall."

She fastened them beside the leaf on her blue pinafore.

"They look nice there," said the boy, awkwardly rubbing his great hands and
watching her.

"Yes; but the pinafore spoils it all; it is not pretty."

He looked at it closely.

"Yes, the squares are ugly; but it looks nice upon you--beautiful."