A sudden new roaring and crackling had broken forth from the toll-house. The roof stones had crashed through the burnt baulks, and from the standing walls fountains of fire and sparks shot high into the sky, as if from a huge Jack-in-the-box. The rioters shouted and danced madly, the old pike-keeper looked up with a dazed look, and the birds hopped in the illuminated trees. “Now I’ll send him, while that’s amusin’ ’em,” Harriet muttered; she pressed Bessie’s hand--all of her she could reach--against her cheek for a moment; then she disappeared among the shouting crowd. * * * * * The hills in the east were revealed against the grey sky. A light breeze drifted the smoke from the toll-house in the direction of Litton village, and the glow shone luridly on the rolling masses. A cock gave a rousing call, and was answered from farm to farm throughout the grey dale. “Barnaby Bright, langest day an’ shortest night,” a farmer muttered; and russet frets appeared over the hills. The fire burned down, and the embers glowed through a white ash. The Rebeccas were gathered together for departure; and Harriet Stubbs, a grimy, ungainly figure, in a short under-petticoat that revealed her sharp tibias, stood a little apart and watched a man in a woman’s attire who led a horse with a figure upon it quietly round by a wall and down a pasture to the open northward road. Farmer Butler was cursing here and there, and shouting, “Harriet! Harriet Stubbs!” The high hills to the east showed a vast and mysterious shape, with an edge that burned. The two figures on the mare waved their hands to Harriet, and disappeared down the road. For many minutes she stood gazing after them; the birds twittered loudly; and then she laughed her short hard laugh. “A Lad-lass to some purpose!” she muttered. “An’ his cheek were agen mine. O my love!--De’il tak’ me, I’m whinin’ again! Get thy face washed, Harriet Stubbs, an’ seek a house an’ mak’ a decent woman o’ thyself, an’ cover them shallacky ankles, for thou’s a offald thing i’ th’ dayleet. Speed ye, Harry! Happen he’ll call th’ bairn Harriet--or Harry--th’ Lad-lass wad serve for auther--an’ ’tis better nor calling mine Bessie.--Now I’ll find Henry.” The sky flamed in hues of amber and coral, and she turned again to where the last of the Rebeccas were departing from the ruins of the toll-house. THE FAIRWAY.