A tall figure loomed out of the darkness and the swinging lantern stopped beside the cart.
"We've just landed a lovely little pair o' twins, Miss Mary. Prime little beauties. Black as a parson's cask."
It was a moment before David decided he meant "cassock."
"Good," said Mary, and turned to grope for parcels on the floor of the cart. "You see," she explained to David, her head under the seat, "it's lambing time, and I get all the black ones. Isn't it a night, shepherd? You'd better come in for a drop of whisky, I think. Now then"—she re-emerged, her hands full—"is that everything? Mr. Rossitur, will you please look and see if the mincing-machine is below your seat, and I think you're sitting on the cheese. Now, Shepherd, what about the shelter in the horse pasture? Did you get it up this afternoon?"
"Ay. Maister Robson lent a hand and all."
David climbed out of the cart and stood silently in the rain while Mary handed over the pony to a groom, who appeared from the darkness, and recounted to him in detail the tale of the flints. David felt very cold and sore and stiff. Also he was holding a mincing-machine, a Stilton cheese, four pounds of sugar, and the roll of cotton wool for Mrs. Watts. Still it was all very entertaining and the lady of the farm seemed unusually kind and companionable.
The lady of the farm summoned him, and following her and the shepherd, he stumbled across a spacious yard and up a step into another enclosure of inky darkness. A door rattled in front of him, and a flood of orange light streamed across the snow. Standing in the doorway, he saw a tall broad shouldered young woman, wrapped in a dark coat. Her cheeks were whipped to crimson by the sleet, her wide eyes shone; her lips were parted in a welcoming smile.
"Come in," said Mary.
He followed her into the brick-tiled kitchen and stood there silently dripping, his arms full of parcels. Violet from her station by the fire-place regarded him open-mouthed. Mary gave hurried instructions about sheets on the North room bed, and hot whisky and something to eat at once.
"May I put these down on the table?" asked David, ruefully regarding the mincing-machine, cheese, sugar and cotton wool. "Then I can take off my cap like a gentleman."