'How could she?' broke in the old man sharply. 'She does not belong to that old time. She is new. I cannot even tell the old tale if she sits there in the listener's place. I shall forget, the old will be lost in the new; as it is ever.' 'Change places with me, Miss Tweedie,' put in Lewis with a bored look. 'I am not regenerate out of the old Adam, am I, potter-ji?' But as he rose the pliant hand went out in a gesture of denial. 'There is room on the log for both, and crows roost with crows, pigeons with pigeons. The big Huzoor can sit on the stool if he likes. I know him. I have seen him many and many a time.' 'Only once, potter-ji,' protested Dan, as he and Rose changed places and the wheel began to hum. 'The post is going from Logborough junction to St. Potter's burgh,' murmured Lewis discontentedly. 'If we are going to play round games I shall go home.' 'Do be quiet, Gordon!' put in George eagerly; 'he is just beginning, and it really is worth hearing. But Lewis was incorrigible. '_Proxime accessit_,' he went on, to Rose, 'what crime in your past incarnation is responsible for your being bracketed with me in this?' 'Oh, do listen,' protested George again. 'Listen! Who could help listening to that infernal noise?--I beg your pardon, Miss Tweedie, but it is infernal.' It was startling, certainly. A shrill moan coming from the racing, rocking, galloping wheel as the worker's body swayed to and fro like a pendulum. It seemed to rouse a vague sense of unrest in the hearers, a dim discomfort like the remembrance of past pain. Then suddenly the story began in a high-pitched persistent voice, round which that racing, galloping rush of the wheel seemed to circle, hurrying it, pushing at it, every now and again sweeping it along recklessly. 'It was a woman seeking something, _Over hill and dale, through night and day, she sought for something_. The wrestlers who own the world wrestled for her, On the palm of her right hand wrestling for her, "She is mine, she is mine," said one and the other, _While over hill and dale, through night and day, she sought for something_. "O flies? you tickle the palm of my hand, Be off and wrestle down in your world." So they brought flowers and grass as a carpet, Wrestling on as she sought for something-- _Over hill and dale, through night and day, seeking for something_. "Your carpet is hot, be off, you flies." So they brought her trees and water for cooling, Wrestling on as she sought for something-- _Over hill and dale, through night and day, seeking for something_. "The grass grows long with the water," she cried, "Be off, O flies, and tickle your world." So they brought her flocks to devour the grass, Wrestling on as she sought for something-- _Over hill and dale, through day and night, seeking for something_.