'Policy. If we drove slowly, people would say we had small practice.'
Dr. Arthur found it unusually hard to get his hands warm to-night, and still stood up by the fire taking notice. Among other things there was not a flower in all the rooms. Nor a wreath, nor anything that even looked like decoration. The doctor's quick eyes went from the unadorned rooms to Wych Hazel's dress, and her face, and Dane's face. After which, Dr. Arthur professed himself comfortable, and sat down. But a little silence had fallen upon the people; and the wind moaned in the chimney again.
'It is a sweet time, this Christian time,' said Primrose. 'I always enjoy it. It feels like Christmas, somehow, here to-night. Listen to that wind. I dare say it is going to snow again. But it sounds like Christmas.'
'Why?' said Dane.
'I can't tell the why of things,' said Primrose. 'I suppose I have been thinking of your doings in the Hollow, Duke. Wasn't it good?'
'It was very good, Prim. It is good now to think of. Yes, it does feel like Christmas, as you say. All Mill Hollow is happy to-night. No! I'm too hasty. The Charteris men cannot be happy; for they don't know what is to become of them when their Christmas beef is gone!'
'What will become of them, Dane?' said Primrose, looking very anxious.
'There is no hope for them, except in the mills going on with work.'
'And is there any hope of that?' said Mrs. Coles.
'Not unless somebody buys them off Charteris's hands.'