"Where are the cocks and hens?" said Griselda suddenly. As if in answer to her query, a scraggy pullet at the awkward age appeared on the top of the farmyard gate, flapped groundwards and proceeded to investigate the neighbouring soil with a series of businesslike pecks. Their eyes turned towards the yard whence the pullet had emerged in search of her usual bevy of feathered companions; but the satisfied cluck of the bird as she sampled a seed remained unechoed and unanswered and brought no comrade to the spot. Obviously the family excursion was unlikely to be accompanied by a lengthy procession of poultry; and moved by a common impulse of wonder William and Griselda made for the gate and surveyed the farmyard beyond ... The doors of byre and stable were standing wide, untenanted either by horse or by cow, and the two farm-carts had vanished. There was a small dark square in the corner of the yard marking the spot where yesterday an imprisoned mother had kept watch and ward over a baker’s dozen of attractive yellow downlings; now the dark square was the only trace of mother, chicks and cell. "I wish," said William, "that we could read what’s written on that paper. What can have happened to them all?" "What’s happened to them is that they’ve gone," Griselda returned with decision. "And gone for a good long time—people don’t take their cows and chickens and cart-horses with them when they go for a week-end. I suppose they’re moving and taking another farm." "Ye-es?" William agreed doubtfully. "But I shouldn’t have thought they’d have moved at such short notice—with all those animals. Of course, if they’re moving, they’ll come back for what they’ve left—those spades and the wheelbarrow and the furniture. There are a lot of things still in the kitchen ... they may come to fetch them to-night." "They’re sure to," his wife said hopefully. "Besides, Madame Peys would never leave us without milk or provisions for the morning—she’s much too considerate. I daresay the new farm isn’t far off, and she’ll either come herself or send Philippe. Then we must explain about the train to-morrow morning." William, still doubtful in spite of Griselda’s optimism, paused at the half-open door of the kitchen, pushed it more widely ajar and surveyed the interior in detail. "They must have started in rather a hurry," he commented.