my trousers and 'lastic-side boots and hurried out. It was Mary herself,
dressed, and sitting on an old stone step at the back of the kitchen
with her face in her hands, and Jack was off his horse
and stooping by her side with his hand on her shoulder.
She kept saying, `I thought you were ----! I thought you were ----!'
I didn't catch the name. An old single-barrel, muzzle-loader shot-gun
was lying in the grass at her feet. It was the gun they used to keep
loaded and hanging in straps in a room of the kitchen ready for a shot
at a cunning old hawk that they called `'Tarnal Death', and that used to be
always after the chickens.

When Mary lifted her face it was as white as note-paper,
and her eyes seemed to grow wilder when she caught sight of me.

`Oh, you did frighten me, Mr Barnes,' she gasped. Then she gave
a little ghost of a laugh and stood up, and some colour came back.

`Oh, I'm a little fool!' she said quickly. `I thought I heard
old 'Tarnal Death at the chickens, and I thought it would be a great thing
if I got the gun and brought him down; so I got up and dressed quietly so as
not to wake Sarah. And then you came round the corner and frightened me.
I don't know what you must think of me, Mr Barnes.'

`Never mind,' said Jack. `You go and have a sleep, or you won't be able
to dance to-night. Never mind the gun -- I'll put that away.'
And he steered her round to the door of her room off the brick verandah
where she slept with one of the other girls.

`Well, that's a rum start!' I said.