Joel Hart returned to the dale on the day of the Shepherds' Meet. The coach set him down at an inn, twenty miles from High Fold, in the small hours of the morning; and, having hired a horse for the rest of the journey, he rode through Cringel Forest soon after day-break. Mally Ray had cleaned the old house from cellar to garret, arranged the furniture to the best advantage, and put fires in those rooms which she considered most suitable for a young man who had made his fortune, but was still a bachelor. She was preparing the breakfast when she heard the sound of hoofs on the road. Austere and dignified, she yet flung a shawl over her shoulders, and went out to meet him. Yonder he came, a dusky figure on a dusky horse, riding under the bare boughs. He alighted as soon as he saw her. "You're welcome home, Master Joel," she said, and though he had been her nursling, she shook hands with him after the fashion of her country. But her hand-shake was sincere. "Still the same old Mally," he exclaimed with a laugh, and bending down he kissed her cheek. With the horse's bridle over his arm, and his free hand on her shoulder, they went up the path to the house. Joel gave a swift glance round at the rank vegetation. "There's some need of a pruning knife here," he remarked. "Aye, Master Joel, you'll find plenty to do now you've come back. I hope you mean to stay and settle down." He shook his head gaily. "I'll make no promises," he replied. He stabled his horse, wandered once round the moss-grown walk under the windows, then entered the parlour and flung himself down in a chair. Breakfast was ready, and he ate it in a strange mood. Five years in the wilderness had greatly changed him. He had lived through wider experiences, tasted fresh pleasures and disappointments, thought other thoughts. But now he had come back to the old life, and already those days were slipping away, and bygone habits reasserting themselves. "And how are all my friends, Mally?" he asked. "Mistress Lynn is still living, I hear. She must be a tough old stick." "She's near a hundred." "Good heavens! Think of living for a hundred years! Fewer will satisfy me!" "Fewer satisfy most folk." "Life isn't such a joyous game, is it, Mally, that you'd like to play it for ever?" "I've no call to complain," she replied. Joel took his pipe from his pocket and lit it. "Neither have I," he said. "Fate kicked me badly once, but she's made up for it since. I'm a rich man, Mally." "I'm glad to hear it. I hope you'll use your wealth wisely." "I shall not tie it up in a napkin like great-granny Lynn. By-the-bye, I must go and see her this morning. Barbara, I suppose, still manages the farm?" "She's a fine lass!" said the old woman warmly. "Handsome--eh?" "I'm no judge."