HereuponIgrewsohappyatbeingondrylandagain，andcometolookforLorna，withprettytreesaroundme，thatwhatdidIdobutfallasleepwiththeholly-stickinfrontofme，andmybestcoatsunkinabedofmoss，withwaterandwood-sorrel。MayhapIhadnotdoneso，noryetenjoyedthespringsomuch，ifsobeIhadnottakenthreepartsofagallonofciderathome，atPlover’sBarrows，becauseofthelownessandsinkingeversinceImetMotherMelldrum。
Therewasalittlerunnelgoingsoftlydownbesideme，fallingfromtheupperrockbythemeansofmossandgrass，asifitfearedtomakeanoise，andhadamothersleeping。Nowandthenitseemedtostop，infearofitsowndropping，andwaitforsomeorders；andthebladesofgrassthatstraightenedtoitturnedtheirpointsalittleway，andofferedtheirallegiancetowindinsteadofwater。Yetbeforetheircarklededgesbentmorethanadrivensaw，downthewatercameagainwithheavydropsandpatsofrunning，andbrightangeratneglect。
Thiswasverypleasanttome，nowandthen，togazeat，blinkingasthewaterblinked，andfallingbacktosleepagain。Suddenlymysleepwasbrokenbyashadecastoverme；betweenmeandthelowsunlightLornaDoonewasstanding。
’MasterRidd，areyoumad？’shesaid，andtookmyhandtomoveme。
’Notmad，buthalfasleep，’Ianswered，feigningnottonoticeher，thatsoshemightkeepholdofme。