Derek had been equally pleased by the old English hunting print brought from Halifax.
The day was fine, and so mild that the bare earth and moist, brown orchard trees seemed to be stretched in but a feline half-sleep and needed only a whisper or a touch to awaken to activity. They spent the morning in visiting every building on the farm. They walked to the wood, followed all the way up the lane by the two Welsh ponies. There the paths were slippery with pine needles; beds of moss dotted with scarlet wintergreen berries looked like diminutive cultivated gardens. They sat on a fallen tree watching the smoke from their cigars wind like a blue veil in and out among the pines. Rabbits and squirrels were about hopping and scampering in the sun. Presently the four men came to cut spruce and hemlock branches to decorate the house for the dance. Mrs. Machin and Phœbe were busy baking cakes and tarts, and decorating freshly-boiled hams with frills of fringed pink tissue paper. Into the fat they pressed many cloves.
At two o'clock the brothers were met at the door of Durras by Mr. Jerrold himself. He took them into the drawing-room where there were already Grace Jerrold, Mr. Ramsey, and a young lady from Brancepeth of whom the Vicar spoke as "my tower of strength in the Chancel Guild." Miss Edna Pearsall was dark-haired, pale, with square, plump jaws, permanent dimples in her cheeks, and glistening grey eyes. The presence of four unattached males exhilarated her pleasantly. She had an especial air for each of them. Towards the Vicar she was at once deferential and mischievous; towards Mr. Jerrold child-like and yet knowing—even naughty; towards Edmund, worldly, richly cultivated; but towards Derek there was a deadly seriousness in her manner that alarmed him. They were seated beside each other at table, and Mr. Ramsey smiled encour-
