one to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a kettle,
meaning to make himself some coffee. Morning had broken, clear and
sparkling after the long rain, and full of scent and song. What glory
equalled this early morning radiance, the dewy wonder of everything!
What hour of the day was such a web of youth and beauty as this, when
all the stars from all the skies had fallen into the grass! A cold nose
was thrust into his hand, and he saw beside him Tod's dog. The animal
was wet, and lightly moved his white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow
eyes inquired of Felix what he was going to give a dog to eat. Then
Felix saw his brother coming in. Tod's face was wild and absent as a man
with all his thoughts turned on something painful in the distance. His
ruffled hair had lost its brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back
into his head; he was splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot. He
walked up to the hearth without a word.

"Well, old man?" said Felix anxiously.

Tod looked at him, but did not answer.

"Come," said Felix; "tell us!"

"Locked up," said Tod in a voice unlike his own. "I didn't knock them
down."

"Heavens! I should hope not."

"I ought to have."

Felix put his hand within his brother's arm.

"They twisted her arms; one of them pushed her from behind. I can't
understand it. How was it I didn't? I can't understand."

"I can," said Felix. "They were the Law. If they had been mere men you'd
have done it, fast enough."

"I can't understand," Tod repeated. "I've been walking ever since."

Felix stroked his shoulder.

"Go up-stairs, old man. Kirsteen's anxious."

Tod sat down and took his boots off.

"I can't understand," he said once more. Then, without another word, or
even a look at Felix, he went out and up the stairs.

And Felix thought: 'Poor Kirsteen! Ah, well--they're all about as queer,
one as the other! How to get Nedda out of it?'

And, with that question gnawing at him, he went out into the orchard.
The grass was drenching wet, so he descended to the road. Two
wood-pigeons were crooning to each other, truest of all sounds of
summer; there was no wind, and the flies had begun humming. In the air,
cleared of dust, the scent of hay was everywhere. What about those poor
devils of laborers, now? They would get the sack for this! and he was
suddenly beset with a feeling of disgust. This world where men, and
women too, held what they had, took what they could; this world o