knock or
their calling. Mrs. Darke looked in through the tiny window.

"She be sleepin' that peaceful in 'er bed in there," she said, "it 'ud
be a shame to wake 'er. She's deaf now, and belike she never 'eard the
tree come down, 'ooever's done it. But I'll go and see after Duckie:
she's makin' noise enough to rouse 'er, anyway."

Then Duckie was released and fed and departed to gabble her wrongs to
the other white ducks that were preening themselves amongst the deep
green grass of the adjacent orchard.

"You can 'ear that bird a mile away--she's never done talking!" said
Mrs. Darke as the indignant gabble grew fainter in the distance. "But
'ere's my old man a-come to look at the plum tree. Wonder what he'll
say to it? This be a queer job, sure enough!"

Old Darke, on two sticks, hobbled towards the scene of desolation with
grunts of mingled satisfaction and dismay. 'Twas a rare sensation,
though a pity, to be sure!

Mrs. Darke stood by the well at the turn of the road, keeping a sharp
eye on the cottage while she gossiped with the neighbour who was
filling her pitcher. She did not want to miss the sight of Mrs.
Prettyman's face when she opened her door and found out what had
happened.

"She be sleepin' too long; I'll go and waken her in a minute," said
Mrs. Darke. "'Tis but right she should be told what's come to 'er
tree, poor thing."

Then a beggar woman selling bootlaces came along the shore of the
river; she mounted the cottage steps and the gossips watched her
trailing up the pathway in her loose old shoes, and knocking at the
door. She waited for a few minutes: there was no answer, so she turned
away resignedly and trailed off along the sun-lit lane, in-shore,
leaving the garden gate swinging to and fro.

"There's summat the matter!" Mrs. Darke had just whispered with
evident enjoyment, when some one else was seen approaching the cottage
from the direction of the pier. It was the young lady from the Manor,
this time. She wore a white dress and a green scarf, and her face was
tinted with colour. She looked like a young blossoming tree herself,
all lacy white and pale green, a strange morning vision in a
work-a-day world! Robinette ran quickly up the pathway and knocked at
the door, but there was no answer to her knock. She called out in her
clear voice:--

"Good morning, Nurse! Good morning! Aren't you ready to let me in?
It's quite late!" But there was no answer to her call. She was just
trying to op