It was a late lamb, born of a mother which had been sold from the hill, but had found her way back from a great distance, in order that her coming young one might have the privilege of being yeaned on the same spot where she had herself awaked to existence.

Another moment, and her mba-a was heard approaching the door.

She trotted in, and going up to Janet, stood contemplating the consequences of her maternal ambition.

Her udder was full, but the lamb was too weak to suck.

Janet rose, and going to the side of the room, opened the door of what might have seemed an old press, but was a bed.
Folding back the counterpane, she laid the lamb in the bed, and covered it over.