'Sitting at the supper in a grand shining gown wi' roses on it,' said Hazel ecstatically, her voice rising to a kind of chant, 'with a white cloth on table like school-treat, and the old servant hopping to and agen like thrussels after worms.' 'Thrussel yourself!' muttered Andrew, peering in at the door. He retired again, remarking to the cat in a sour lugubrious voice, as he always did when ruffled: 'There's no cats i' the Bible.' He began to sing 'By the waters of Babylon.' Upstairs Hazel coiled her hair, running her fingers through its bright lengths, as she had no comb, and turning in her underbodice to make it suit the low dress. Outside, his rough hair wet with snow, stood Reddin, watching her from the vantage-ground of the darkness! He saw her stand with head erect and bare white shoulders, smiling at herself in the glass. He saw her slip into the rich gown and pose delightedly, mincing to and fro like a wagtail. He noted her lissom figure and shining coils of hair. 'She'll do,' he said, and did not wonder whether he would do himself. Then he gave a smothered exclamation. She had opened the window, pushing the snowy ivy aside, and she leant out, her breast under its folds of silk resting on the snow. She looked over his head into the immensity of night. 'Dunna let 'un take my good name, for the old feller says I'd ought to keep it,' she said. 'And let me get back to Foxy quick in the morning light, and no harm come to us for ever and ever.' The night received her prayer in silence. Whether or not any heard but Reddin none could say. Reddin tiptoed into the house, rather downcast. This was a strange creature that he had caught. Vessons was still at the waters of Babylon when Hazel came down. 'Why canna he get beyond them five words?' asked Hazel. 'He allus stops and goes back like a dog on a chain.' She sang it through in her high clear voice. There was silence in the kitchen. Reddin stared at Hazel. 'Who taught you to sing?' he asked. 'Father. He's wonderful with the music, is father.' Hazel found that in the presence of strangers her feeling for her father was almost warm. 'Playing the harp nights, he makes your flesh creep; ah! and he makes the place all on a charm, like the spinneys in May month. And he says, "Sing!" says he, and I ups and sings, and whiles I don't never know what I bin singing.' 'That I can well believe,' said Vessons. Reddin swung round. 'What the devil are you doing here?' he asked. 'I've come to say'--Vessons' tone was dry--'as supper's burnt.' 'Burnt?' 'Ah, to a cinder.' 'How did you do that, you fool?' 'Harkening at the lady teaching me to sing.' Reddin was furious. He knew why supper was burnt. 'Get out!' he said. 'Get out into the stable and stay there. I'll get supper myself.' Vessons withdrew composedly. Since Hazel had offended him, he had decided that she must take care of herself. 'Couldna he bide in the house?' asked Hazel uneasily. 'No.'