"That's what 'tis." "Ay, sure--that's the machine," chimed in Henery Fray, reflectively, with an Oriental indifference to the flight of time.
"Well," burst out Bathsheba, "don't stand there with your 'ayes' and your 'sures' talking at me! Get somebody to cure the sheep instantly!" All then stalked off in consternation, to get somebody as directed, without any idea of who it was to be.

In a minute they had vanished through the gate, and she stood alone with the dying flock.
"Never will I send for him--never!" she said firmly.
One of the ewes here contracted its muscles horribly, extended itself, and jumped high into the air.

The leap was an astonishing one.

The ewe fell heavily, and lay still.
Bathsheba went up to it.

The sheep was dead.
"Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do!" she again exclaimed, wringing her hands.