"How fast the hours go by!" he muttered, dreamily. "When we're young they don't count--but when we're old we know that every hour brings us nearer to the end-the end, the end of all! Another night closing in--and the last load cleared from the field--Innocent!" The name broke from his lips like a cry of suffering, and she ran to him trembling. "Dad, dear, what is it?" He caught her outstretched hands and held them close. "Nothing--nothing!" he answered, drawing his breath quick and hard--"Nothing, lass! No pain--no--not that! I'm only frightened! Frightened!--think of it!--me frightened who never knew fear! And I--I wouldn't tell it to anyone but you--I'm afraid of what's coming--of what's bound to come! 'Twould always have come, I know--but I never thought about it--it never seemed real! It never seemed real--" Here the door opened, admitting a flood of cheerful light from the outside passage, and Robin Clifford entered. "Hullo, Uncle! Supper's ready!" The old man's face changed instantly. Its worn and scared expression smoothed into a smile, and, loosening his hold of Innocent, he straightened himself and stood erect. "All right, my lad! You've worked pretty late!" "Yes, and we've not done yet. But we shall finish stacking tomorrow," answered Clifford--"Just now we're all tired and hungry." "Don't say you're thirsty!" said the old farmer, his smile broadening. "How many barrels have been tapped to-day?" "Oh, well! You'd better ask Landon,"--and Clifford's light laugh had a touch of scorn in it,--"he's the man for the beer! I hardly ever touch it--Innocent knows that." "More work's done on water after all," said Jocelyn. "The horses that draw for us and the cattle that make food for us prove that. But we think we're a bit higher than the beasts, and some of us get drunk to prove it! That's one of our strange ways as men! Come along, lad! And you, child,"--here he turned to Innocent--"run and tell Priscilla we're waiting in the Great Hall."