had a good education and had then spent two years at an agricultural
college; but he was a farmer's son and he knew where he stood, from the
Osborns' point of view. He had been of help, but this was no reason Miss
Osborn should recognize him when they next met; yet he somehow thought
she would. In the meantime, it was rash to think about her much, although
his thoughts returned to the stile beneath the alders where he had
watched the sun and shadow play about her face.




CHAPTER III

A COUNCIL OF DEFENCE


The sun had sunk behind the moors when Peter Askew sat by an open window
in his big, slate-flagged kitchen at Ashness. All was quiet outside,
except for the hoarse turmoil of the force and a distant bleating of
sheep. In front, across a stony pasture, the fellside ran up abruptly;
its summit, edged with purple heath, cut against a belt of yellow sky.
The long, green slope was broken by rocky scars and dotted by small
Herdwick sheep that looked like scattered stones until they moved.

The kitchen was shadowy, because the house was old and built with low,
mullioned windows to keep out snow and storm, and a clump of stunted ash
trees grew outside the courtyard wall. A fire of roots and peat, however,
burned in the deep hearth, and now and then a flickering glow touched old
copper and dark oak with red reflections. Collectors had sometimes
offered to buy the tall clock and ponderous meal chest, but Askew would