aunt who entertains a great deal, and she always needs me to help
her. That has been fun, too."

"Then it has been religion and dinners," he summarized
briefly.

"It has."

"With a Puritan ancestry, I suppose?"

"For a god," murmured Daphne, "it seems to me you know a great
deal too much about some things, and not enough about others."

"I have brought you something," he said, suddenly changing the
subject.

He lifted the sheepskin coat and held out to her a tiny lamb,
whose heavy legs hung helpless, and whose skin shone pink through
the little curls of wool. The girl stretched out her arms and
gathered the little creature in them.

"A warm place to lie, and warm milk are what it needs," he said.
"It was born out of its time, and its mother lies dead on the
hills. Spring is for birth, not autumn."

Daphne watched him as he went back to his sheep, then turned
toward the house. Giacomo and Assunta saw her coming in her blue
dress between the beds of flowers with the lambkin in her arms.

"Like our Lady!" said Assunta, hurrying to the rescue.