"I dunno 'bout that," said the servant, putting her large hands on her hips; "it takes long to clean up bookshop, it do. I rarely get it done afore nine. I declare, miss, when Mr. Joad come this morn, I couldn't believe 'twas so late. Thought I, Clock's gone wrong again." "What clock?" asked Dora, remembering the strange remark made by Pallant. "Lor, miss, how sharp you speak!" said Meg, rather startled by the abruptness of the question. "Why, clock in hall, for sure!" "Was it ever wrong, Meg?" "A whole hour, miss; though how it could have lost hour in night I dunno. But it was ten when I looked at it in morning, while kitchen clock was nine. Too fast by hour, Miss Dora." "On what night was it wrong?" asked Dora, eagerly feeling that she was on the verge of a discovery. "Why, miss, it went wrong on night master had head bashed. Not as I wonder, miss, for my aunt had husband as died, and clock--her clock, miss--struck thirteen. Seems as clock knows of deaths and funerals," concluded Meg reflectively. "Was the clock in the hall wrong by an hour when you saw it in the morning after the crime had been committed?" "For sure, Miss Dora. But Lor' bless you, miss, it don't matter. I jes' put it right by kitchen clock, as has never lost a minute since I came here, and that's six years, miss." "Why did you not mention that the clock was wrong when you gave your evidence?" Meg stared at her mistress. "I never thought, miss," she said gravely; "and I wasn't asked about clock. It didn't matter, I hope?" "No," replied Dora carelessly, "it didn't matter. You need say nothing about it to Mr. Joad, or, indeed, to anyone." "I aren't much of a chat at any time, miss," cried Meg, tossing her head; "and as for Mr. Joad, I'd as lief speak to blackbeetle! I won't say naught, bless you, no, miss." "Very well, Meg. You can clear away." This Meg did with considerable clatter and clamour; while Dora left the room, and without putting on a hat walked slowly across the lawn, in the dewy freshness of the morning. On reaching the beehive chair under the cedar, which was Joad's favourite outdoor study, the girl sat down, and looked contemplatively at the scene before her. A space of sunlit lawn, with a girdle of flaming rhododendrons fringing it on the right; tall poplars, musical with birds, bordering the ivy-draped wall; and beyond the wall itself the red-tiled roof of Joad's cottage, showing in picturesque contrast against the delicate azure of an August sky. After regarding the scene to right and left, as it lay steeped in the yellow sunlight, Dora's gaze finally rested on the glimpse of Joad's house. There it stayed; and her thoughts reverted to the remark about the clock made by Pallant, and to the later explanation given by Meg Gance. What connection these things had with Joad may be gathered from the girl's thoughts.