Mother Doll trusted that her husband would never have the heart to leave the pretty dark-haired girl in the snow, but she was relieved to find Hal marking down on the wide flat hearth-stone, with a bit of charcoal, all the stars he had observed.  ’Hob calls that the Plough—­ those seven!’ he said; ‘I call it Charles’s Wain!’

‘Methinks I have seen that!’ she said, ‘winter and summer both.’

’Ay, he is a meuseful husbandman, that Charles!  And see here!  This middle mare of the team has a little foal running beside her’—­he made a small spot beside the mark that stood for the central star of what we call the Bear’s Tail.

‘I never saw that!’

’No, ’tis only to be seen on a clear bright night.  I have seen it, but Hob mocks at it.  He thinks the only use of the Wain is to find the North Star, up beyond there, pointing by the back of the Plough, and go by it when you are lost.’

’What good would finding the North Star do?  It would not have helped me home if you had not found me!’

‘Look here, Lady Anne!  Which way does Greystone lie?’

‘How should I tell?’

‘Which way did the sun lie when you crossed the moor?’

Anne could not remember at first, but by-and-by recollected that it dazzled her eyes just as she was looking for the runaway pony; and Hal declared that it proved that the convent must have been to the south of the spot of her fall; but his astronomy, though eagerly demonstrated, was not likely to have brought her back to Greystone.  Still Doll was thankful for the safe subject, as he went on to mark out what he promised that she should see in the winter—­the swarm of glow-worms, as he called the Pleiades; and ‘Our Lady’s Rock,’ namely, distaff, the northern name for Orion; and then he talked of the stars that so perplexed him, namely, the planets, that never stayed in their places.

By-and-by, when Mother Dolly’s work was over the kettle was on the fire, and she was able to take out her own spinning, she essayed to fill up the time by telling them lengthily the old stories and ballads handed down from minstrel to minstrel, from nurse to nurse, and they sat entranced, listening to the stories, more than even Hal knew she possessed, and holding one another by the hand as they listened.

Meantime the snow had ceased—­it was but a scud of early autumn on the mountains—­the sun came out with bright slanting beams before his setting, there was a soft south wind; and Hob, when he came in, growled out that the thaw had set in, and he should be able to take the maid back in the morning.  He sat scowling and silent during supper, and ordered Hal about with sharp sternness, sending him out to attend to the litter of the cattle, before all had finished, and manifestly treated him as the shepherd’s boy, the drudge of the house, and threatening him with a staff if he lingered, soon following himself.  Mother Dolly insisted on putting the little lady to bed before they should return, and convent-bred Anne had sufficient respect for proprieties to see that it was becoming.  She heard no more that night.