CHAPTER I

THE BLUE BALL


There was a large, brilliant evening star in the early twilight, and
underfoot the earth was half frozen. It was Christmas Eve. Also the
War was over, and there was a sense of relief that was almost a new
menace. A man felt the violence of the nightmare released now into the
general air. Also there had been another wrangle among the men on the
pit-bank that evening.

Aaron Sisson was the last man on the little black railway-line
climbing the hill home from work. He was late because he had attended
a meeting of the men on the bank. He was secretary to the Miners Union
for his colliery, and had heard a good deal of silly wrangling that
left him nettled.

He strode over a stile, crossed two fields, strode another stile, and
was in the long road of colliers' dwellings. Just across was his own
house: he had built it himself. He went through the little gate, up
past the side of the house to the back. There he hung a moment,
glancing down the dark, wintry garden.

"My father--my father's come!" cried a child's excited voice, and two
little girls in white pinafores ran out in front of his legs.

"Father, shall you set the Christmas Tree?" they cried. "We've