The Village Shepherd

The three children were racing through the woods, and Roly was keeping up as best he could with his short legs. He was a reluctant participant in this escapade, for even though he loved nothing better than the woods, he had an inkling of what the children were about.

There was a battered old caravan standing in a glade deep in the woods. The children had come across it one day, and had amused themselves peering in the gloomy windows and scrawling rude words on the dirty paintwork.