alton Head on Askew's sledge was ominous. She must have been strongly
attracted by Kit since she had done a thing like that. Besides, she
had obviously sympathized with, and perhaps helped, his plans. This
was treachery, because it was a tradition of the Osborns that they
stood together.

By and by he heard voices in the hall and braced himself. He must go down
to receive his guests and was glad that they had come, since he did not
want to tell his wife about the matter yet; in fact, he did not think he
would talk to Grace. The thing was humiliating, and there was a
possibility that Hayes had been mistaken. Osborn resolved to watch the
girl and then insist on a reckoning if she gave him grounds for doing so.

He went down and carried out his hospitable duties. Next morning he
arranged for a day's shooting; the snow had nearly gone and there were a
few pheasants left in Redmire wood. The party started early, taking their
lunch, and in the afternoon Grace left Tarnside and walked down the dale.
She had no particular object, but the day was fine and she wondered
whether Kit had brought all the peat from Malton Head.

There was no wind and the frost was not keen. Gray clouds trailed across
the sky that was touched with yellow in the west, and soft, elusive
lights played about the dale. Patches of snow on the fellsides gleamed
and faded; mossy belts glowed vivid green, red berries in the hedgerows
shone among withered leaves and fern, and then the light passed on and
left the valley dim. Something in its calm beauty reacted on the girl and
made her thoughtful. She loved the dale and felt that she might be happy
there if it were not for her father's poverty and overbearing
temperament.

After all, they were not really poor; they had enough to satisfy their
needs. Their clinging to out-of-date traditions caused the strain. One
gained nothing by pretending to be rich and important; there was no
logical reason for trying to live like one's ancestors, and the effort
cost the Osborns much. It meant stern private economy, public
ostentation, and many small deceits. Grace was getting tired of this
pretense; she wanted something simpler and dignified. For the most part,
the dalesfolk looked happy and she had come to envy them. They had their
troubles, but they were troubles all mankind must bear, and they had joys
one did not properly value at Tarnside: human fellowship and sympathy,
and freedom to follow their bent. A shepherd's