acle, Robert," I said.

Bob uttered a little whine, as if he, too, were endowed with powers of
prophecy.

THE STORM BREAKS

XXII

Rather to my surprise, the next morning passed off uneventfully. By
lunch time I had come to the conclusion that the expected trouble
would not occur that day, and I felt that I might well leave my post
for the afternoon while I went to the professor's to pay my respects.

The professor was out when I arrived. Phyllis was in, and as we had a
good many things of no importance to say to each other, it was not
till the evening that I started for the farm again.

As I approached the sound of voices smote my ears.

I stopped. I could hear Beale speaking. Then came the rich notes of
Vickers, the butcher. Then Beale again. Then Dawlish, the grocer.
Then a chorus.

The storm had burst, and in my absence.

I blushed for myself. I was in command, and I had deserted the fort in
time of need. What must the faithful hired man be thinking of me?
Probably he placed me, as he had placed Ukridge, in the ragged ranks
of those who have shot the moon.

Fortunately, having just come from the professor's, I was in the
costume which of all my wardrobe was most calculated to impress. To a
casual observer I should probably suggest wealth and respectability. I
stopped for a moment to cool myself, for, as is my habit when pleased
with life, I had been walking fast, then I opened the gate and strode
in, trying to look as opulent as possible.

It was an animated scene that met my eyes. In the middle of the lawn
stood the devoted Beale, a little more flushed than I had seen him
hitherto, parleying with a burly and excited young man without a coat.
Grouped round the pair were some dozen men, young, middle-aged, and
old, all talking their hardest. I could distinguish nothing of what
they were saying. I noticed that Beale's left cheek bone was a little
discolored, and there was a hard, dogged expression on his face. He,
too, was in his shirt sleeves.

My entry created no sensation. Nobody, apparently, had heard the latch
click, and nobody had caught sight of me. Their eyes were fixed on the
young man and Beale. I stood at the gate and watched them.

There seemed to have been trouble already. Looking more closely I
perceived sitting on the grass apart a second young man. His face was
obscured by a dirty pocket handkerchief, with which he dabbed tenderly
at his features. Every now and then the shirt-sl