The wandering beast was a distinguished matron, and her loss had caused annoyance. "How glad the master will be!" cried Mrs. Malherb. "Don't lose sight of her on any account, Woodman. Indeed, you will do well to follow her at once. I can easily walk home from here." She alighted, and Harvey galloped off to secure the pig. "Send Bickford or one of 'em after me!" he shouted back to the ladies. The day was fine and the Moor dry and frozen, but Bickford grumbled not a little at his duty, for the Christmas dinner only waited to be eaten when Mrs. Malherb and her daughter returned. The servants' hall was full of grateful savours; the peat blazed in a pure, still heart of red-hot fire under a purple corona of flame; the walls were decked with holly and fir; it was a scene painful to leave. But the labourer soon returned, for he had not gone far when he met Harvey riding homeward at a great pace. "Where's the pig to?" he asked. "'Twas no pig at all, but a message from Heaven," gasped Mr. Woodman. "If I didn't know, I should say you was drunk," answered Bickford; "but you wouldn't have dared get in liquor, having to ride back with missis. Be you mazed or pixy-led in daylight?" "Mazed I be--to think--but five mile from our very doors--that awful--my flesh be creaming to my bones with the sight, an' my scalp's crawling down my back." "You've catched the small-pox, I reckon. I'd best walk to windward of 'e." "I can say nought till I stand afore the company. Then I'll properly terrify the whole pack of 'e." As they entered the servants' hall Maurice Malherb was already standing over a great sirloin at one end of the table, while Mr. Beer carved two turkeys at the other. Threads of holly berries glittered against the shining green. There was a smell of gravy and evergreens in the air, and bright sunshine poured through the windows. On Christmas Day the family dined with their men and women, for it was an old custom of the Malherbs to do so. Now appeared Harvey Woodman, and conscious that perhaps the greatest moment of his life had come, he determined to make the most of it. "For the love of charity a drop of brandy, souls!" he cried. "Oh, your honour's goodness--such a shock as I've had--such a thing! I failed away in my middle when I seed it an' nigh dropped off the hoss." "Fegs!" said Bickford, "when I comed to un, the man looked as if he'd been drawed through a brimble hedge backwards!" Mrs. Woodman rushed to her husband's side, and Malherb, putting down the carvers, also approached. "Speak," he said. "What has happened? Are you ill?"