night. Then work was stopped. But generally the last
measuring of the day began at five. As each company had its bin measured
it gathered up its things and, chatting again now that work was over,
sauntered out of the garden. The women went back to the huts to clean up
and prepare the supper, while a good many of the men strolled down the
road to the public-house. A glass of beer was very pleasant after the
day's work.

The Athelnys' bin was the last to be dealt with. When the measurer came
Mrs. Athelny, with a sigh of relief, stood up and stretched her arms: she
had been sitting in the same position for many hours and was stiff.

"Now, let's go to The Jolly Sailor," said Athelny. "The rites of the day
must be duly performed, and there is none more sacred than that."

"Take a jug with you, Athelny," said his wife, "and bring back a pint and
a half for supper."

She gave him the money, copper by copper. The bar-parlour was already well
filled. It had a sanded floor, benches round it, and yellow pictures of
Victorian prize-fighters on the walls. The licencee knew all his customers
by name, and he leaned over his bar smiling benignly at two young men who
were throwing rings on a stick that stood up from the floor: their failure
was greeted with a good deal of hearty chaff from the rest of the company.
Room was made for the new arrivals. Philip found himself sitting between
an old labourer in corduroys, with string tied under his knees, and a
shiny-faced lad of seventeen with a love-lock neatly plastered on his red
forehead. Athelny insisted on trying his hand at the throwing of rings. He
backed himself for half a pint and won it. As he drank the loser's health
he said:

"I would sooner have won this than won the Derby, my boy."

He was an outlandish figure, with his wide-brimmed hat and pointed beard,
among those country folk, and it was easy to see that they thought him
very queer; but his spirits were so high, his enthusiasm so contagious,
that it was impossible not to like him. Conversation went easily. A
certain number of pleasantries were exchanged in the broad, slow accent of
the Isle of Thanet, and there was uproarious laughter at the sallies of
the local wag. A pleasant gathering! It would have been a hard-hearted
person who did not feel a glow of satisfaction in his fellows. Philip's
eyes wandered out of the window where it was bright and sunny still; there
were little white curtains in it tied up with red ri