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Cela was right, of course. There had been no wolves in the Shire since the Fell Winter, when the Brandywine was frozen, and there had been a path into the Shire from the lands outside the Hobbits' comfortable domain. And that was nigh upon 50 years ago. She supposed it was possible that a stray wolf had wandered over the borders. But not likely. Still, Gable had seen - and killed - something. Primrose wished she knew what it was. She hoped Cela was right about its not really being a wolf. Wolves would be an ominous sign indeed.
In any case, Primrose shared Gable's concern for the pony's keeper. "Yes. I hope that no harm has come to anyone. Whatever the source. Wolves or no."
With that, she turned back to Cela.
"You, old?" Primrose laughed. "Never. And I've no doubt you can run things perfectly well. Why, there's no better cook anywhere! Not if you went all the way to Hobbiton. Or Bree!"
Which was Primrose's way of saying that Cela had no equal in all Middle-earth.
"But you know if you needed my help, should things turn busy with the midday travelers, I'd not want to leave you with all the work. Wouldn't be doing my job if I did." She smiled.
Then she added, "Thank you for sparing me today. In more ways than one."
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