w?"

"'Tis a young lady, and she volunteering to see to bedding for the
pigs!" Desmond answered.

The ladder creaked, and, peering out, they saw a shock yellow head
rise into the trap-door. The girl who came up was about
twenty--stoutly built, with a broad, good-humoured face. She wore
rough clothes, and but for her two thick plaits of yellow hair, might
easily have passed for a man.

The heavy steps came slowly across the floor, while the men lay trying
to breath so softly that no unusual movement should stir the loose
pea-straw. Then, to their amazement, she spoke.

"Where are you?" she said in English.

Astonishment as well as fear held them silent. She waited a moment,
and spoke again.

"I saw you come in. You need not be afraid."

Still they made no sign. She gave a short laugh.

"Well, if you will not answer, I must at least get my straw for my
pigs."

She stooped, and her great arms sent the loose stalks flying in every
direction. Desmond and Jim sat up and looked at her in silence.

"You don't seem to want to be killed," Desmond said. "But assuredly
you will be, if you raise an alarm."

The girl laughed.

"I could have done that all day, if I had wished," she said. "Ever
since I saw you run in when I put up my window this morning."

"Well--what do you want? Money?"

"No." She shook her head. "I do not want anything. I was brought up
in England, and I think this is a silly war. There is a bucket of
milk for you downstairs; it will come up if one of you will pull the
string you will find tied to the top of the ladder." She laughed.
"If I go to get it you will think I am going to call for help."

Jim was beyond prudence at the moment. He took three strides to the
ladder, found the cord, and pulled up a small bucket, three parts full
of new milk. The girl sat down on an empty oil-drum and watched them
drink.

"So! You are thirsty, indeed," she said. "Now I have food."

She unearthed from a huge pocket a package of bread and sausage.

"Now you can eat. It is quite safe, and you could not leave yet; my
uncle is still wandering about. He is like most men; they wander
about and are very busy, but they never do any work. I run the farm,
and get no wages, either. But in England I got wages. In Clapham.
That is the place of all others which I prefer."

"Do you, indeed?" Desmond said, staring at this amazing female. "But
why did you leave Clapham?"

"My father came back to