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XV. A Morning Meeting—The Letter Again

           Asillygirl!—sillygirl!"

           Thedoorwashurriedlyburstopenagain,andincamerunningCainyBalloutofbreath,hismouthredandopen,likethebellofapennytrumpet,fromwhichhecoughedwithnoisyvigourandgreatdistensionofface.

           "Now,CainBall,"saidOak,sternly,"whywillyourunsofastandloseyourbreathso?I’malwaystellingyouofit."

           "Oh—I—apuffofmeebreath—went—the—wrongway,please,MisterOak,andmademecough—hok—hok!"

           "Well—whathaveyoucomefor?"

           "I’veruntotellye,"saidthejuniorshepherd,supportinghisexhaustedyouthfulframeagainstthedoorpost,"thatyoumustcomedirectly.Twomoreeweshavetwinned—that’swhat’sthematter,ShepherdOak."

           "Oh,that’sit,"saidOak,jumpingup,anddimissingforthepresenthisthoughtsonpoorFanny."Youareagoodboytorunandtellme,Cain,andyoushallsmellalargeplumpuddingsomedayasatreat.But,beforewego,Cainy,bringthetarpot,andwe’llmarkthislotandhavedonewith’em."

           Oaktookfromhisillimitablepocketsamarkingiron,dippeditintothepot,andimprintedonthebuttocksoftheinfantsheeptheinitialsofherhedelightedtomuseon—"B.E.,"whichsignifiedtoalltheregionroundthathenceforththelambsbelongedtoFarmerBathshebaEverdene,andtonooneelse.

           "Now,Cainy,shoulderyourtwo,andoff.Goodmorning,Mr.Boldwood.

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