"Well, I can't help being a woman, and the sheep had to be washed. I think
there ought to be more men in the world when half of them are preaching and
fighting."

"If you'd only let the men who are left help you a little, Dorothy."

"I don't want any help. I only _don't_ want to be washed into the
mill-head."

They both laughed, and Evesham began again entreating her to let him take
her to the house.

"Hasn't thee a coat or something I could put around me until Shep comes?"
said Dorothy. "He must be here soon."

"Yes, I've a jacket here somewhere."

He sped away to find it, and faithless Dorothy, as the willows closed
between them, sprang to her feet and fled like a startled Naiad to the
house.

When Evesham, pushing through the willows, saw nothing but the bed of wet,
crushed ferns and the trail through the long grass where Dorothy's feet had
fled, he smiled grimly to himself, remembering that "ewe-lambs" are not
always as meek as they look.

That evening Rachel had received a letter from Friend Barton and was
preparing to read it aloud to the children. They were in the kitchen, where
the boys had been helping Dorothy in a desultory manner to shell corn for