Her pastoral conscience was smitten.

She opened the gate and waved violently after the cart.

John pulled his horse up, and with a few quick steps she brought herself within speaking, or rather shouting, distance.
'How's your daughter to-day, John ?' The old man's face peering round the oilcloth hood of the cart was darkened by a sudden cloud as he caught the words.

His stern lips closed.

He muttered something inaudible to Mrs.Thornburgh and whipped up his horse again.