Dark and shapeless thoughts passed through her mind, like the shadows of the ash foliage in the moonlight. She was full of undefined apprehension of coming trouble. But Honor had no time to give way to her fears. There was no leisure for an explanation. The dead lambs had to be skinned and their meat disposed of. Honor was busily engaged the whole morning. She was forced to concentrate her mind on her task, but unable to escape the apprehension which clouded her. It did not escape her that her father’s manner changed, as soon as the children were despatched to school and Kate had gone forth. He became perceptibly nervous. He was shy of being in the room with Honor, and started when she spoke to him. He pretended to look for means of fastening up the flock for the night, but he went about it listlessly. His playful humour had evaporated; he seemed to expect to be taken to task for his words, and to dread the explanation. His troubled face cleared when he saw Hillary Nanspian appear at the top of the hedge that divided the Chimsworthy property from the carrier’s paddock. The young man swung himself up by a bough, and stood on the hedge parting some hazel-bushes. ’What is this I hear? The lamb-killer been to you last night?’ ’Yes, Larry, and I am trying to find how we may pen the sheep in out of reach. I’ve only the linhay, and that is full.’ ’Are you going to sit up?’ ’No, Larry, I am not a shot, and like a beetle at night.’ ’I’ll do it. Where are Kate and Honor? I promised them I would do it, and I keep my word. Little Joe tells me Honor thinks the dog was Rover. What a game if I shoot Uncle Taverner’s dog! I hope I may have that luck. Expect me. I will bring my gun to-night.’ *CHAPTER XV.* *A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.* Honor’s kitchen work was done. She came to her father after Larry Nanspian had departed, and said, ’Now, father, I want to know your meaning, when you said that it lay with me whether you should keep the horse or not?’ Then she seated herself near the door, with a gown of little Pattie’s she was turning. ’It was so to speak rigmarole,’ answered Oliver colouring, and pretending to plait a lash for his whip. She shook her head. ’You did not speak the words without purpose.’ ’We lead a hard life,’ said Oliver evasively. ’That you can’t deny and keep an honest tongue.’ ’I do not attempt to deny it,’ she said, threading a needle at the light that streamed in through the open door. The carrier looked at her appealingly. Behind her, seen through the door, was a bank of bushes and pink foxgloves, ’flopadocks’ is the local name. He looked at the sunlit picture with dreamy eyes. ’I shouldn’t wonder,’ he said, ’if there was a hundred flowers on that there tallest flopadock.’ ’I should not either,’ said Honor without looking off her work. Then ensued another pause.