n he
drew back, and whispering: "Oh, Nedda! Nedda!" fled out like a dark
ghost. Oblivious that she was damp from head to foot, Nedda stood
swaying, her eyes closed and her lips just open; then, putting out her
arms, she drew them suddenly in and clasped herself. . . .

When she came down to breakfast the next morning, he had gone out
already, and Uncle Tod, too; her aunt was writing at the bureau. Sheila
greeted her gruffly, and almost at once went out. Nedda swallowed
coffee, ate her egg, and bread and honey, with a heavy heart. A
newspaper lay open on the table; she read it idly till these words caught
her eye:

"The revolt which has paralyzed the hay harvest on Sir Gerald Malloring's
Worcestershire estate and led to the introduction of strike-breakers,
shows no sign of abatement. A very wanton spirit of mischief seems to be
abroad in this neighborhood. No reason can be ascertained for the arson
committed a short time back, nor for this further outbreak of discontent.
The economic condition of the laborers on this estate is admittedly
rather above than below the average."

And at once she thought: '"Mischief!" What a shame!' Were people, then,
to know nothing of the real cause of the revolt--nothing of the Tryst
eviction, the threatened eviction of the Gaunts? Were they not to know
that it was on principle, and to protest against that sort of petty
tyranny to the laborers all over the country, that this rebellion had
been started? For liberty! only simple liberty not to be treated as
though they had no minds or souls of their own--weren't the public to
know that? If they were allowed to think that it was all wanton
mischief--that Derek was just a mischief-maker--it would be dreadful!
Some one must write and make this known? Her father? But Dad might
think it too personal--his own relations! Mr. Cuthcott! Into whose
household Wilmet Gaunt had gone. Ah! Mr. Cuthcott who had told her that
he was always at her service! Why not? And the thought that she might
really do something at last to help made her tingle all over. If she
borrowed Sheila's bicycle she could catch the nine-o'clock train to
London, see him herself, make him do something, perhaps even bring him
back with her! She examined her purse. Yes, she had money. She would
say nothing, here, because, of course, he might refuse! At the back of
her mind was the idea that, if a real newspaper took the part of the
laborers, Derek's position wou