Page:Delight - de la Roche - 1926.djvu/189

 to a rattle of wheels, to a sharp sound of horses' hoofs outside.

"Hallo, in there!" a voice called.

Peake hurried forth.

"Where's Mr. Heaslip?" went on the voice. "Is he about yet?"

Delight began to creep towards the door at the far end of the byre. She would escape while the stranger engaged Peake's attention. Then something in the stranger's voice caught her ear, held her motionless. He was saying:

"I want to complain of the milk he's sending in to me. It's no up to the standard. He says he keeps a Jairsey and a half-Jairsey. Weel, the unnamed half must give water, I suspect."

It was the voice of Kirke.

"I wouldn't put it past him," the old man answered.

Delight threw open the door and ran to the nigh wheel of the cart in which Kirke, in a raincoat and bowler hat, with a long whip in his hand, was perched. His lean, highly coloured face was fresh with the moisture of the morning. His gimlet eyes were sternly fixed on the labourer.

"Oh, Mr. Kirke," cried Delight. "Will you give me just a little lift away from here? I'm that upset. I've thrown Perkin in the stream and I won't marry him and, dear me, I'd all but gone and left my china—" She burst into tears.

"So this," said Kirke, "is where you're hanging out."

"The poor girl is all upset," explained Peake. "By the look of her I believe she's spent the night in the mow."

Kirke bent over her as she clung, sobbing, to the wheel.

"What have they been doing to ye, lass?"

"Oh, my poor china," she wailed, "how can I ever