condition.
‘Well, I never!’ Martha was overjoyed, and amazed.
George said, ‘You’ll know just which sheep you want to buy now, lass.’
The unknown buyer from Ripon had evidently now decided to sell. What luck, that now she had some money, she should find them again! After that Sally could hardly contain her impatience until the sale began and the pens were slowly sold off, one by one. Prices that day were not too high, she noted with relief. She would probably get them back for the same price.
Martha and George had gone off to take an old lady home when the crucial time came and the auctioneer started on the line of pens that ended with the Motley Flock: Lot 210. Eagerly Sally took up her position by the pen. He father had taught her how to bid at sales. She looked round quickly; not many people interested in Lot 210, except perhaps the tall man beside her. Head up, shoulders back … ‘It’s the Roman soldier!’ It was months ago, back in early summer that they’d met, but Sally had not forgotten.
Marcus turned to look down at her. ‘Bo-Peep! I was hoping to see you here today. And you look quite different, you know, fromthe girl on Camp Hill.’
It was spoken quietly, but the words sent a thrill through Sally. Robin, bless him, had never spoken to her with that tone in his voice, ever. It sounded as though he’d been looking for her. ‘I’m here to buy back my sheep … they were sold, you see. And I’ve missed them, naughty though they are. Do you like sheep, Marcus?’
The tall man’s grave face lightened. ‘I’ve always lived with sheep, we’re a sheep farming family. And I was working with them from the start, except for when they sent me away to school.’
The auctioneer was creeping nearer. Sally looked over at the progress of the sale and when she looked back, Marcus’ eyes were on her. She felt suddenly nervous. Her mother had wanted to send her away to school, but they couldn’t afford it. ‘We’ve always had a few sheep, to graze after the cattle. It hasn’t been the same without them.’
Marcus laughed. ‘I know the feeling. Yes, we’ve been improving our flocks, the breeding side is most interesting. But look, here he comes to sell your sheep. You’d better get ready to bid for them if you want them back.’ Sally was grateful that he didn’t offer to bid for her, as most men would have done.
There were few bidders and soon the auctioneer raised his hammer. Sally’s was the last bid. He looked across at Marcus before the hammer came down and the tall man nodded. ‘Good enough.’
The hammer fell and Sally turned to Marcus, her cheeks burning. ‘You bid against me! How could you? You bought them!’ She felt betrayed. He was teasing her, snatching them from her with a last minute bid and he was laughing.
Marcus took her right hand. ‘You shake hands for luck, you know. You are the buyer and I’m the seller. I wasn’t bidding against you, Bo-Peep, just confirming that I’d take your price.’ The crowd had drifted to the next pen and his quiet, deep voice was heard by nobody else.
Marcus was the owner. The Motley Flock had been with him all this time. No wonder he was amused! Sally looked up and saw that his laughter was genuine, not mocking. The quiet voice was almost apologetic. ‘I’m so pleased you were here. I didn’t knowhow to contact you. But of course, I didn’t know, either, that you would want them back. Although I did suspect it, since they were so tame.’
‘You bought them!’ Sally was still trying to get used to the idea.
‘Yes, I bought your sheep at Ripon and they’ve been up at Dallagill, keeping an old lady company and living well. She needed some sheep to eat the grass, yours were just right. But they finished the grass, so they had to go. They’re in lamb again for next spring. We used a good tup, you’ll get some fine lambs.’
‘I suppose you didn’t know that they were my sheep, the ones that strayed. You wouldn’t want that
‘Well, I never!’ Martha was overjoyed, and amazed.
George said, ‘You’ll know just which sheep you want to buy now, lass.’
The unknown buyer from Ripon had evidently now decided to sell. What luck, that now she had some money, she should find them again! After that Sally could hardly contain her impatience until the sale began and the pens were slowly sold off, one by one. Prices that day were not too high, she noted with relief. She would probably get them back for the same price.
Martha and George had gone off to take an old lady home when the crucial time came and the auctioneer started on the line of pens that ended with the Motley Flock: Lot 210. Eagerly Sally took up her position by the pen. He father had taught her how to bid at sales. She looked round quickly; not many people interested in Lot 210, except perhaps the tall man beside her. Head up, shoulders back … ‘It’s the Roman soldier!’ It was months ago, back in early summer that they’d met, but Sally had not forgotten.
Marcus turned to look down at her. ‘Bo-Peep! I was hoping to see you here today. And you look quite different, you know, fromthe girl on Camp Hill.’
It was spoken quietly, but the words sent a thrill through Sally. Robin, bless him, had never spoken to her with that tone in his voice, ever. It sounded as though he’d been looking for her. ‘I’m here to buy back my sheep … they were sold, you see. And I’ve missed them, naughty though they are. Do you like sheep, Marcus?’
The tall man’s grave face lightened. ‘I’ve always lived with sheep, we’re a sheep farming family. And I was working with them from the start, except for when they sent me away to school.’
The auctioneer was creeping nearer. Sally looked over at the progress of the sale and when she looked back, Marcus’ eyes were on her. She felt suddenly nervous. Her mother had wanted to send her away to school, but they couldn’t afford it. ‘We’ve always had a few sheep, to graze after the cattle. It hasn’t been the same without them.’
Marcus laughed. ‘I know the feeling. Yes, we’ve been improving our flocks, the breeding side is most interesting. But look, here he comes to sell your sheep. You’d better get ready to bid for them if you want them back.’ Sally was grateful that he didn’t offer to bid for her, as most men would have done.
There were few bidders and soon the auctioneer raised his hammer. Sally’s was the last bid. He looked across at Marcus before the hammer came down and the tall man nodded. ‘Good enough.’
The hammer fell and Sally turned to Marcus, her cheeks burning. ‘You bid against me! How could you? You bought them!’ She felt betrayed. He was teasing her, snatching them from her with a last minute bid and he was laughing.
Marcus took her right hand. ‘You shake hands for luck, you know. You are the buyer and I’m the seller. I wasn’t bidding against you, Bo-Peep, just confirming that I’d take your price.’ The crowd had drifted to the next pen and his quiet, deep voice was heard by nobody else.
Marcus was the owner. The Motley Flock had been with him all this time. No wonder he was amused! Sally looked up and saw that his laughter was genuine, not mocking. The quiet voice was almost apologetic. ‘I’m so pleased you were here. I didn’t knowhow to contact you. But of course, I didn’t know, either, that you would want them back. Although I did suspect it, since they were so tame.’
‘You bought them!’ Sally was still trying to get used to the idea.
‘Yes, I bought your sheep at Ripon and they’ve been up at Dallagill, keeping an old lady company and living well. She needed some sheep to eat the grass, yours were just right. But they finished the grass, so they had to go. They’re in lamb again for next spring. We used a good tup, you’ll get some fine lambs.’
‘I suppose you didn’t know that they were my sheep, the ones that strayed. You wouldn’t want that
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