Wully 



dun of an unusually heavy Cheviot storm. 

 They became alarmed, and in spite of their 

 keepers stampeded through the town in 374 

 different directions. 



Robin was vexed to the inmost recesses of 

 his tiny soul. He stared stupidly after the 

 sheep for half a minute, then gave the order, 

 "Wully, fetch them in." After this mental 

 effort he sat down, lit his pipe, and taking out 

 his knitting began work on a half-finished 

 sock. 



To Wully the voice of Robin was the voice 

 of God. Away he ran in 374 different direc- 

 tions, and headed off and rounded up the 374 

 different wanderers, and brought them back to 

 the ferry-house before Robin, who was stolidly 

 watching the process, had toed off his sock. 



Finally Wully — not Robin — gave the sign 

 that all were in. The old shepherd proceeded 

 to count them— 370, 371, 372, 373. 



"Wully," he said reproachfully, " thar no' 

 a' here. Thur's anither." And Wully, stung 

 with shame, bounded off to scour the whole city 

 for the missing one. He was not long gone 

 when a small boy pointed out to Robin that 



281 



<~ 



z*k* 



