Oh, beautiful sunrise! at which he glanced for a moment, leaning over the gate that led into the Thackbusk field, without much notion of seeking consolation in a sight so familiar as that of the rising sun. The whole of the eastern sky was a mass of countless ripples, such as in old pictures make a floor for angels’ feet, save where here and there they were broken by lines of vivid light, or contrasted against the horizon by one unbroken glow of red. Nat glanced at these things and thought that the day seemed stormy, and that there might possibly be rain before the night; and then, swinging his can of provisions up and down, he turned away from the sight to the village streets. He wanted to fall in with other working-lads, for he was in the state of mind that longs for company. The scene at the Manor Farm lingered still before his eyes, but he did not wish to think about it yet. The village was grey in the early morning light, with a great stillness upon cottages and roads, though already blinds were drawn up, and doors open here and there, showing that the work of life was even now astir. And, every now and then, from one of these open doors would come out some man or boy in working-clothes, in a blue or white jacket, as the case might be, with his tools slung over his shoulder, and his can in his hand. The form of the worker would not long remain solitary, for he would hasten his footsteps to join some man or lad in front, or else, with a glance at the road behind, would loiter for some companion to come up. In spite of the loneliness of the morning hours it is a sociable business, going to work. But Nat, notwithstanding his late desire for company, was seized with another mood, and preferred to be alone. He was able for some while to be solitary, but as he passed the red chapel a hand laid hold of him. ‘Hallo, boy, you’re early to-day,’ so spoke his companion’s voice; ‘I must walk by thy side a bit, for I have to speak to thee.’ It was a young fellow who spoke, a lad who might have been twenty, dressed like all the rest in the street in workman’s clothes, but without any dinner-can or bag of tools, in spite of his blue jacket and his corduroys. He had a face that was intelligent and quick, with dark, bright eyes, over one of which was a scar, and a figure that appeared upright and lithe, although so lean that it gave the impression of having no flesh to spare. The grasp of his hand upon the shoulder of the boy was not one from which it would have been easy to escape, and Nat, who knew him, did not cherish any such intention, although not altogether pleased at the enforced companionship. It appeared, however, that he was not to be let go, so he resigned himself with as good a grace as he had.