All the sheep stood under the trees to be sheared.
They were brought out of the field by old Spot, the shepherd dog. I
stood at the gate and watched him drive them all in. When the shearers
had cropped off all their wool, the sheep looked very clean, and
white, and pretty. But, poor things, they ran shivering about with
cold, so that it was a pity to see them.
Great preparations were being made all day for the sheep-shearing
supper. Grandmamma said a sheep-shearing was not to be compared to a
harvest-home, that was so much better. Then the oven was quite full of
plum pudding, and the kitchen was very hot indeed with roasting beef;
yet I can assure you that there was no want at all of either
roast-beef or plum pudding at the sheep-shearing.
I was allowed to sit up until it was almost dark, to see the company
at supper. They sat at a long oak table, which was finely carved, and
as bright as a looking glass. After the happiest day, bed time will
come. I sat up late, but at last grandmamma sent me to bed. Yet,
though I went, I heard the company singing. The sound of their voices
was very sweet indeed as they sang of the meadows and the sheep.
The common supper that we had every night was just as cheerful. Before
the men came in out of the field, a large fagot was flung upon the
fire.
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