"I should like to be riding Minny down there! I should like to be climbing up there! Oh! I'm tired-I'm _stalled_, Hareton!" And she leant her pretty head back against the sill, with half a yawn and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness: neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.

'I should like to be riding down there! Oh! I'm tired - I'm stalled, Hareton!' And she leant her pretty head against the sill, with half a yawn and half a sigh.
