A gleam of comfort came to Cilla. She had no secret now from this big-voiced, big-hearted father, who looked for each passing change across her face as a lover might have done. Sad she might be, but she could look at Yeoman Hirst again and feel no shame. “The spring tires one, father,” she answered quietly. “Should think it did!” cried the other, settling himself with a pleasant uproar into his chair. “Blanketed in snow one week, and blanketed the next in sunshine. Ne’er heed, lassie; I’m no way for quarrelling myself with all this warmth that’s bringing up the clover fair like a fairy’s trick. Cilla, there’s David coming at five of the clock to help wi’ yond durned turkey-pen. I’m dry, lass, and I won’t deny a measure of ale would hearten up my innards. Let it be the light ale, though; light ale, light hearts, they say in Garth--and, bless me, ye need a lightish heart and a clearish head when it comes to netting off a pen.” David the Smith, punctual to five--by his favourite clock, the sun--was waiting in the croft when Hirst came out. “’Evening, David!” “’Evening, Farmer! And as likely a one as we’ll see this side o’ Michaelmas.” “Ay--oh, ay. Wind a thought shrewder than it was but nought to matter.” David pointed to the upper corner of the croft. “Thought ye told me all my stakes were lying where I laid ’em? Why, they’re tight in their places, Farmer, and the skirting-boards all nailed trim and level.” The other scratched his shaven chin and laughed. “Between you and me, David,” he said, lowering his voice to a confidential bellow, “I didn’t speak quite the truth. Can drive a stake as true as any man, and can nail the boards on trim enough; but, when it comes to netting, my men and me are done, and ’twas that we wanted ye for to-day. It all comes o’ listening to new-fangled notions.” “Well, now, as for that, I know naught o’ netting myself,” said David, glancing at the plump, white rolls of wire. “Always fenced the run with boarding, I. Who brought the notion into Garth?” “Reuben Gaunt, I fancy; though, if I’d known at first that the notion came from that quarter, there’s never a yard o’ netting would have come into my lile croft. Well, we’ve got the job on hand, David, and here my two men are, and we’d best get agate with it, liking it or no.” The farm-hands nodded cheerily to David. “Rum goings on i’ Garth,” said one. “Would as soon handle a bunch o’ thorn-prickles as yond lump o’ wire. But Farmer Hirst knows best--oh, ay, he’s for knowing what is best.” “And if he doesn’t, ye’ve got to think so,” put in the farmer drily. “Here, lads, buckle to.” The men handled the wire gingerly at first, then with the carelessness begotten of a great despair. The uprights--seven feet high--were standing like so many fingers, pointing to the dappled sky; and, because the ground rose sharply toward the further limit of the pen, the upper poles looked down upon their neighbours in the valley.