Sally's long eyelashes suddenly drooped, and she drummed on the gate
nervously.

"I'll do my best to please ye," she said. "I'll coom when ye call,"
she added after a pause.

Lifting up her basket, and balancing it once more on her head, she
raised her downcast lids, and flashed a farewell smile at John as she
turned away. In another moment she was speeding in the opposite
direction.

John was vexed and disappointed that she should terminate the meeting
so abruptly, but consoled himself with the reflection that he was free
to assume the office of instructor that very evening if he chose.

The long, toilsome day seemed slow of passing, the company of the
farmer and his men more tedious even than usual, but by way of
compensation Jinny's sallies seemed to have lost their power to wound
him. It was late when, the last waggon-load having been conveyed from
the field and the evening meal disposed of, he found himself free to
attend to Sally's education. He strode along the sandy lane and across
the field at a very different pace to that of the previous evening,
and was almost breathless when he found himself on the top of the tall
dune, gazing about with anxious eyes. No golden head was to be seen
amid the star-grass and ragwort this time; no graceful girl's figure
was outlined against the evening sky. His heart sank, and it was in a
disconsolate, uncertain voice that he called aloud:

"Golden Sally! Golden Sally!"