"Say, Ernie!" he began.
Ernie, under the tossing willow-plumes, awaited him coldly.
Alf seemed to feel that he had run up against the wall of the other's hostility. He stopped short, turned abruptly once more, and bustled away, jerking a handful of words over his shoulder.
"All right," he said. "Have it your own way. Only don't blame me. That's all. But there is a law in the land."
Ernie stood with folded arms, and watched his brother across the Tye and out of sight.
Then thoughtfully he mounted the steps of the cottage, knocked at the door, and entered the kitchen.
Ruth sat by the fire, staring into it, on her face that formidable look of an animal driven to bay he had before remarked.
He stood in the door and watched her.
"Ruth," he said at last.
Her profile was to him, her hands bound about her knees. She did not stir, but she was aware of his presence.