ered much to admire, and she had not been pleased with the
appearance of Number 4 Back Row. It had seemed to her then that people
called him "poor Mr Goodwin" with reason: he was poor, evidently, or he
would not live all alone in such a very little house, with no servants,
and work so hard, and get so tired and dusty as he had looked on that
first evening she had seen him. Yet, perhaps, when she knew him as well
as Delia did, she should be able to feel proud of him; and, at any rate,
he stood in need of love and attention.

She felt drawn to the Hunts and the Dornton people, who had known and
loved her mother, and she resolved to make more efforts to go there
frequently, and to risk displeasing Aunt Sarah and upsetting her
arrangements. It would be very disagreeable, for she knew well that
neither Mr Goodwin nor Dornton were favourite subjects at Waverley; and
when things were going smoothly and pleasantly, it was so much nicer to
leave them alone. However, she would try, and just then arriving at the
farmyard gate, she dismissed those tiresome thoughts, and leaned over to
look with great interest at the creatures within. As she did so, a
little girl came out of the farmhouse and came slowly down the lane
towards her. She was about twelve years old, very childish-looking for
her age, and dressed in a fresh, yellow cotton frock, nearly covered by
a big, white pinafore. Her little, round head was bare, and her black
hair closely cropped like a boy's. She came on with very careful steps,
her whole attention fixed on a plate she held firmly with both hands,
which had a mug on it full of something she was evidently afraid to
spill. Her eyes were so closely bent on this, that until she was near
Anna she did not see her; and then, with a start, she came suddenly to a
stand-still, not forgetting to preserve the balance of the mug and
plate. It was a very nice, open, little face she raised towards Anna,
with a childish and innocent expression, peppered thickly with freckles
like a bird's egg, especially over the blunt, round nose.

"Did you come from the Vicarage?" she inquired, gravely.

"I'm staying there," replied Anna, "but I came over the fields just now
from Dornton."

"Those are puppa's fields," said the child, "and this is puppa's farm."

"You are Daisy Oswald, I suppose?" said Anna. "Your father asked me to
come and see your cows." The little girl nodded.

"I know what your name is," she said. "You're