s room for one or two more at Inistow:
that's what you might call our motto; and the Old Woman dotes on
children. She ought to--havin' six of her own, besides nine of my first
family."

The wagon had reached a short break in the ascent--you might liken it to
a staircase landing--where the road ran level for about fifty yards
before taking breath, so to speak, for another stiff climb. Here a
by-road led off to the right, and here they turned aside.

The road ran parallel, or roughly parallel, with the line of the cliffs,
between low and wind-trimmed hedges, over which, from his perch beside
Farmer Tossell, the boy looked down across a narrow slope of pasture to
the sea. The fog had lifted. Away and a little above the horizon the
sun was dropping like a ball of orange flame in a haze of gold; and
nearer, to the right of the sunset, lay the Island as if asleep on the
waves, with glints of fire on the pointed cliffs at its western end, and
all the rest a lilac shadow resting on the luminous water.

He gazed, and still gazed. He heard no longer, though the farmer was
speaking. There was indeed some excuse, for the young men and girls
had started another hymn, and were singing with all their voices.
But he did not even listen.

The road rose and dipped. . . . They came to a white-painted gate, which
one of the young men sprang down to open. The last glow of the sunset
fell on its bars, and their outline repeated itself in dazzling streaks
on the sky as the horses wheeled to the left through the gateway, and
the boy turned for a last look. But Holmness had disappeared. A brown
ridge of stubble hid it, edged and powdered with golden light.

Turning from the sea, the wagons followed a rutted cart-track that wound
downhill in a slow arc between an orchard hedge and an open meadow
dotted with cattle. High beyond the orchard rose a cluster of elms,
around which many rooks were cawing, and between the elms a blue smoke
drifted. There too the grey roof of the farmhouse crept little by
little into sight; and so they came to a second gate and the rick-yard;
and beyond the ricks was a whitewashed doorway, where a smiling elderly
woman stood to welcome them. This was Mrs. Tossell, forewarned many
minutes since by their singing.

She had come straight from preparing the feast, and her face was yet
flushed with the heat of the kitchen fire. The arrival of the extra
mouths to be fed did not put her out in the least. But