In the flagged kitchen, Mrs. Railton and Lucy bustled about by the light
of a lamp and the glow of the fire. The table was covered with used
plates and cups. The men outside had breakfasted, but one or two more
might come and Mrs. Railton wondered when Kit would arrive. She had lain
awake for the most part of the night, thinking about him and the strayed
Herdwicks while she listened to the gale. Now and then Lucy went to the
door and looked up the dale to the glimmering line of foam that marked
the spot where Bleatarn beck came down. A path followed the water-side,
but she could not see men or sheep in the gloom, and if Kit did not come
soon he would be too late.

Railton sat gloomily by the fire. He had had rheumatic fever, and the
damp cold racked his aching joints; besides, there was nothing for him to
do. He had called in his neighbors to value his flock, but he knew, to a
few pounds, what their judgment would be. Hayes Would presently arrive,
and Railton would be asked to pay, or give security for, the shortage,
which was impossible. Hayes knew this and meant to break his lease.
Perhaps the hardest thing was that the shortage was small; if the next
lambing season were good, he could pay. But Hayes would not wait.

Although Railton was too proud to beg for help from his neighbors, he had
gone to the bank. Osborn, however, used the same bank, and it looked as
if Hayes had given the manager a hint, because he refused a loan. Askew
had offered a hundred pounds, but this was not enough, and even if Kit
arrived with the sheep from Swinset, Railton could not find the rest of
the money. However, the arrival of the Herdwicks would make a difference,
and he did not altogether give up hope. By and by he tried to get up, and
sitting down again with a groan, beckoned his wife.

"Martha, you might gan to door."