Sarah Jane whistled sometimes when she felt unusually cheerful. She whistled now, and her red lips creased up till they resembled the breaking bud of a flower. The sounds she uttered were deep and full, like a blackbird's song, and they made no set tune, but rippled in harmonious, sweet, irregular notes, as an accompaniment to kindred thoughts. Suddenly feet fell on the stone pavement outside the cow-byres, and a man approached where she sat and milked the last cow. The others, each in turn, her store yielded, had passed through an open gate into the Moor, there to browse and repose and chew the cud until another evening. Sarah Jane glanced up and saw Hilary Woodrow standing and looking at her. As yet she had but seen him once upon a formal introduction; now he stopped and spoke to her. "Good morning, Mrs. Brendon. I hope your house is comfortable, and that you are settling down. Let Tabitha know if she can do anything for you." "Good-morning, sir, and thank you. 'Tis a very snug li'l house, and nothing could be nicer." He nodded. Then the last cow went off, and Sarah Jane rose, patted it on the flank and stretched her arms. He remarked her height and splendid figure. "Rather cramping work, I'm afraid," he said. "'Twas at first, but I like it better now. Cows be nice, cosy creatures an' terrible understanding. Some's so peaceful an' quiet; an' others that masterful they won't take 'no' for an answer, an' push afore the patient ones and get their own way, and will be milked first." He nodded once more and smiled. Then she washed her hands in a granite trough of sweet water and spoke again. "You'm moving early," she remarked, in her easy and friendly fashion. "John Prout said you always laid late for health, yet you be up afore the men." "I slept badly and was glad to get out into this sun." "You'm over-thin seemingly, and have a hungry look, sir. Here--wait a minute! Bide where you be, and I'll come back afore you can count ten!" She vanished into Ruddyford, and Hilary, wondering, watched her swift, splendid speed. In a moment she returned with an empty glass. She filled it from the milk-pail and held it to him. "Drink," she said. "'Tis what you'm calling out for." "I can't, Mrs. Brendon--raw milk doesn't suit me." "Don't you believe that! Milk hot out of the cow suits everybody. Take it so, and you'll get rounder and happier in a week. My own father was largely the better for it. Try, sir; do please." He could not resist her eyes, and took the glass from her hands and thanked her. "Here's good luck and all prosperity to you and your husband," he said, and emptied the glass. Her face brightened with pleasure. "Lick your lips," she begged. "Don't lose a drop of it: 'tis life--milk's the very beginning of life--so my mother used to tell." "And do you think this cup is the beginning of mine?"