th.
"They'll be drowned oot afore they get here."

As she spoke, a wild gust flung itself over the house, as though trying
its strength against the doors and windows, and the rain swished against
the panes.

"Are t' fires upstairs burnin' reet?" asked Mrs. Dixon severely. She had
already told Thyrza half a dozen times that day that such a greed for
sweet things as she displayed would ruin her digestion and her teeth; and
it ruffled a dictatorial temper to be taken no more notice of than if she
were a duck quacking in the farmyard.

"Aye, they're burnin'," said Thyrza, with a shrug. Then she looked round
her with a toss of her decidedly graceful head. "But it's a creepy old
place howivver. I'd not live here if I was paid. What does Muster Melrose
want wi' coomin' here? He's got lots o' money, Mr. Tyson says. He'll
nivver stay. What was the use o' turnin' father out, an' makkin' a lot o'
trouble?"

"This house is not a farmin' house," said Dixon slowly, surveying
the girl, as she sat on the packing-case swinging her feet, her
straw-coloured hair and pink cotton dress making a spot of pleasant
colour in the darkness as the lamp-light fell on them. "It's a house for
t' gentry."

"Well, then, t' gentry might clean it up an' put decent furnishin's into
't," said Thyrza defiantly. "Not a bit o' paperin' doon anywhere--juist
two three rooms colour-washed, as yo' med do 'em at t' workhouse. An'
that big hole in t' dinin'-room ceilin', juist as 'twas--and such shabby
sticks o' things upstairs an' down as I nivver see! I'll have a good
sight better when _I_ get married, I know!"

Contempt ran sharply through the girl's tone.

As she ceased speaking a step was heard in the corridor. Thyrza leapt to
the ground, Mrs. Dixon picked up her brush and duster, and Dixon resumed
his tending of the fire.

A man in a dripping overcoat and leggings pushed his way rapidly through
the cases, looking round him with an air of worried authority.

"I don't call that much of a fire, Dixon."

"I've been at it, sir, for near an hour."

"You've got some damp wood. What about the drawing-room?"

He threw open a door on the right. The others followed him in.

The open door revealed a room of singular architectural charm; an oval
room panelled in dark oak, with a stucco ceiling, in free Italianate
design. But within its stately and harmonious walls a single oil lamp, of
the cheapest and commonest pattern, emitting a strong smell of paraffin