sweating young body. He liked, too, to drive the heavy, lurching load into the barn where it was dim after the glare outside, and fowls ran cackling out of the way of the horses' hoofs.
When they had brought in the last load Derek went to the house, Jock at his heels. He saw Phœbe and Fawnie sitting by the kitchen table drinking tea. The sun touched with mellow light the white, scrubbed wood of the table, the loaf of good bread, the brown, shiny teapot, and the red pot of jam. The two girls were leaning over their cups, laughing and whispering together.
Vale had a plunge in the lake, and, after his tea, sat with a book in the porch, till dark. He felt that he was neglecting his farm accounts, which must be getting in a bad state, but he was too sleepy and warm to undertake them tonight. He heard Phœbe and the men go to their rooms, one by one; he heard Fawnie murmuring some little lullaby to her baby. He thought he would not go to bed till the night air had found its way into the house and cooled it.
About ten o'clock he dropped into a doze in his chair. His book slipped from his knees and his head sank forward. . . . He thought a storm must have arisen, for he was awakened by a moaning, roaring sound. He sat up drowsily at first, and then straightened himself with a start, as something heavy fell almost at his feet on the steps. The roaring rose again like a wave, and was shattered into howls and yells about the gate. He got up and peered into the blackness. He could see a dark huddle of figures by the second's flash of an electric torch. Then a second stone rattled on the roof of the porch and struck sharply on the flagstones below. Derek ran down the steps and half-way along the walk. "Who is there?" he called,
