An image fallen from the sun, she thought it, or at any rate from some part of heaven, until she saw the pony, who was testing the geology of the district by the flavor of its herbage.

Then Insie knew that here was a mortal boy, not dead, but sadly wounded; and she drew her short striped kirtle down, because her shapely legs were bare.
Lancelot Carnaby, coming to himself (which was a poor return for him), opened his large brown eyes, and saw a beautiful girl looking at him.

As their eyes met, his insolent languor fell--for he generally awoke from these weak lapses into a slow persistent rage--and wonder and unknown admiration moved something in his nature that had never moved before.
His words, however, were scarcely up to the high mark of the moment.
"Who are you ?" was all he said.
"I am called 'Insie of the Gill.' My father is Bat of the Gill, and my mother Zilpie of the Gill.

You must be a stranger, not to know us." "I never heard of you in all my life; although you seem to be living on my land.

All the land about here belongs to me; though my mother has it for a little time." "I did not know," she answered, softly, and scarcely thinking what she said, "that the land belonged to anybody, besides the birds and animals.
And is the water yours as well ?" "Yes; every drop of it, of course.