Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: his thin, piping voice. " Tis wonderful to see 'ee down wi'out calling—sure!" "I heard a sound below," she answered, sharply, "I looked for 'ee to be beating 'pon the stair. I thought sure the end o' the world were a-come to hear 'ee creep out so quiet as a snail." She was more than a match for him when it came to words, and she was not afraid. In those days before bells, it was his way to arouse his household by hammering on the hollow staircase with a hazel stick kept handy for the purpose. He was wont, like this, to make noise enough, as the saying is, to lift the thatch. And never in his life, until this moment, since she was old enough to work, had he gone out of doors until Ursula gave signs that she was awake. For a moment he was taken aback. "Get on down then an' fetch in the beasts," he growled, "since you be so sprack." Without a word, the girl drew an ashen stick from the faggot pile in the corner, and went as she was bid. She was early, and there was plenty of time; so she strolled leisurely across the home-field, through the leaze, and into the mead, leaving a s wet track in the long, dewy grass where her feet had trod. She thrust back the gate, made it fast with a stone, and stood and called. "Hobe—hobe—hobe—hobe." The morning was alive, and she was young and fresh. Her voice rang musical across the valley, at one with the lark above her head, and the low whistle of the blackbird in the wild crab tree. The lazy cattle turned and stared. Some, longing for the ease, that milking gives to overflowing udders, began to draw slowly towards her. Yet she must needs traipse across the ground at last to hurry up the laggards. She took her time about it. As for her father, let him wait. If he had not that to grumble about, there would be some...