same, he had noted that when she spoke of Osborn renewing the
lease she said we, and since he knew why she had done so, it gave him
cause to think.

It was the code of the old school; the family stood together, a compact
unit to which she belonged and for whose deeds she believed herself
accountable. In a sense, this was rather fine; but Kit, knowing Osborn's
pride, saw it would confine their friendship to narrow limits. Still he
had no ground for imagining she was his friend, and he tried to fix his
thoughts upon the search for the sheep. Grace obviously meant to talk to
Osborn, but Kit did not believe the latter would be moved by her
arguments.

When Kit returned to the farm kitchen Railton was sitting moodily by the
fire and his wife's face was sternly set. They are not an emotional
people in the dales, and her trouble was too deep for useless tears, but
as she glanced about the room all she saw wakened poignant memories. The
old china in the rack had been her mother's; she had brought it and the
black oak meal-chest to Mireside thirty years since. The copper kettles
and jelly-pan were wedding presents, and Tom, her son, who died in
Australia, had sent the money to buy the sewing machine. Now it looked as
if her household treasures must be sold, and to leave Mireside would mean
the tearing up of roots that had struck deep. Besides, while she would
suffer it would hurt her husband worse. When Kit came in she gave him a
keen glance.

"Weel, what had Miss Osborn to say?"

"She didn't say much; I think she means to talk to Osborn."

Railton looked up gloomily. "T' lass has a good heart, but talking to
Osborn will be o' nea use. Hayes is real master and he wants Mireside for
Jim Richardson."

Kit made a sign of agreement. "The fellow's getting dangerous and must be
stopped. I suspect he's backing Bell and now he means to use his nephew;
it's not altogether for Richardson's sake he wants to break your lease.
Some day I imagine Osborn will find his agent owns the estate; but that's
not our business. Well, Peter told me to remind you that you and he are
old friends, and if a hundred pounds would be some help--"

"It would be a big help," said Railton, and Kit turned to the shepherd
when Mrs. Railton awkwardly began to thank him.

"About the broken dyke, Tom? What d'you think brought it down?"

"I canna tell. Dyke's good and there was nea wind."

They were all silent for a few moments, and then Kit said, "Well,
R