With this recollection in his mind, Cragg went off, smiling happily to himself. He had just spent an hour in Dot's company before she was put to bed, and he had found her very good company. She was full of fun and full of talk. Nobody called Dot a pretty child, but she was a most loving one to her father, and that was all that really mattered. When he and she were together the two were perfectly happy. It did not take Cragg two hours, but it did take more than one hour to saunter round by the outskirts of Putworth to the north end of the town, where lay his new possession and its inmates. Cragg, on the way thither, imagined his own arrival, and pictured a pleasant reception from the tall man and the sad-faced girl, both of whom in different ways had captured his fancy. He thought he would apologise for calling, and would make a feint of going away at once, after just asking if everything was comfortable and to their minds. Then perhaps Mr. Dale would persuade him to stay for a little chat, and he might give in to the proposal. Cragg enjoyed chatting with Mr. Dale, who seemed to be a well-read, intelligent man, with pleasant manners, though disposed to melancholy. But in all Cragg's picturings of what was to happen, he never approached the reality. After quitting the town he had to walk a little way along a road, with rough ground on either side. No other houses lay near, except one row of small workmen's cottages down a lane to the right. Cragg passed that lane, and went straight on. He could see the newly built house clearly, and a figure seated in the front window over the dining-room drew his attention. That was at the moment when Pattie noticed him, and remarked upon him to her father. "It's a nice evening," Cragg murmured aloud. "Shouldn't wonder if Mr. Dale was to think the place pretty to-day." The croak of a frog on the border of a muddy stream beside the road made him turn his eyes in that direction. He stopped, and poked absently among the herbage. While doing this, he became aware of a prolonged rumble. "Thunder! Dear me, I shouldn't have thought it!" uttered Cragg. He looked at the clear sky, dotted with tiny cloud-fleckings, and wondered—could it be thunder? Cragg turned towards the house, and stood petrified. Part of the building was still there, dimly visible through a cloud of dust; but something very strange had happened. He might be a slow man generally. At this moment he was anything rather than slow. The first shock over, he literally bounded forward. A greyhound or a deer could hardly have improved upon the speed with which he covered the space between him and the ruin.