trike-breaking column. The two vehicles were drawn up
opposite the gate leading to Marrow Farm, and the agent was detaching
the four men destined to that locality, with their camping-gear. By
the open gate the farmer stood eying his new material askance. Dejected
enough creatures they looked--poor devils picked up at ten pound the
dozen, who, by the mingled apathy and sheepish amusement on their faces,
might never have seen a pitchfork, or smelled a field of clover, in
their lives.

The two young Freelands rode slowly past; the boy's face scornfully
drawn back into itself; the girl's flaming scarlet.

"Don't take notice," Derek said; "we'll soon stop that."

And they had gone another mile before he added:

"We've got to make our round again; that's all."

The words of Mr. Pogram, 'You have influence, young man,' were just.
There was about Derek the sort of quality that belongs to the good
regimental officer; men followed and asked themselves why the devil
they had, afterward. And if it be said that no worse leader than a fiery
young fool can be desired for any movement, it may also be said that
without youth and fire and folly there is usually no movement at all.

Late in the afternoon they returned home, dead beat. That evening
the farmers and their wives milked the cows, tended the horses, did
everything that must be done, not without curses. And next morning the
men, with Gaunt and a big, dark fellow, called Tulley, for spokesmen,
again proffered their demand. The agent took counsel with Malloring by
wire. His answer, "Concede nothing," was communicated to the men in the
afternoon, and received by Gaunt with the remark: "I thart we should
be hearin' that. Please to thank Sir Gerald. The men concedes their
gratitood...."

That night it began to rain. Nedda, waking, could hear the heavy drops
pattering on the sweetbrier and clematis thatching her open window. The
scent of rain-cooled leaves came in drifts, and it seemed a shame to
sleep. She got up; put on her dressing-gown, and went to thrust her nose
into that bath of dripping sweetness. Dark as the clouds had made the
night, there was still the faint light of a moon somewhere behind. The
leaves of the fruit-trees joined in the long, gentle hissing, and now
and again rustled and sighed sharply; a cock somewhere, as by accident,
let off a single crow. There were no stars. All was dark and soft as
velvet. And Nedda thought: 'The world is dressed in living creatu