It grew that Ian was telling stories of cities--of London and of Paris, for he had been there, and of Rome, for he had been there.

He had seen kings and queens, he had seen the Pope-- "Lord save us!" ejaculated Jenny Barrow.
He leaned against the dairy wall and the sun fell over him, and he looked something finer and more golden than often came that way.

Young Gilian at the churn stood with parted lips, the long dasher still in her hands.

This was as good as stories of elves, pixies, fays, men of peace and all! Elspeth let the milk-pans be and sat beside them on the long bench, and, with hands folded in her lap, looked with brown eyes many a league away.

Neither Elspeth nor Gilian was without book learning.