it would be a keen relief."

He came back to the table and picked up a cup of tea. Then, grumbling
that it had gone cold, he put it down noisily and went out.




CHAPTER VIII

GRACE FINDS A WAY


Soon after the reckoning at Mireside, the snow melted off the fells and
for a month dark rain clouds from the sea rolled up the dale. They broke
upon the hill tops in heavy showers, gray mist drifted about the wet
slopes, the becks roared in the ghylls, and threads of foam that wavered
in the wind streaked the crags. In the bottom of the valley it was never
really light, water flowed across the roads, and the low-standing
farmsteads reeked with damp.

All this was not unusual and the dalesfolk would have borne it patiently
had fuel not been short. Large fires were needed to dry the moisture that
condensed in the flagged kitchens and soaked the thick walls, but coal
could not be got at a price the house-wives were willing to pay. Some
would have had to stint their families in food had they bought on Bell's
terms, and the rest struggled, for the common cause, against the mould
that gathered on clothing and spoiled the meal. They grumbled, but their
resolution hardened as the strain got worse, while Bell waited rather
anxiously for them to give way.