She hated to turn her back upon it.
Behind her over a rise came the plough, drawn by two stout horses, driven by a sturdy figure that loomed gigantic against the sky.

Glancing back, Doris saw this figure, and an odd little spirit of dare-devilry entered into her.

She did not want to come face to face with the ploughman, neither did she want to beat a retreat before the five-barred gate that opposed her progress.
She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces.

He was quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it.

She felt him bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set him at the gate.
He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle.