placidly as his brother picked up his boots and went out. But Tom was of
the truly great who can always contain themselves when there is nothing
to be gained by an explosion, and he disappeared without answering.

Annie and John-James proceeded to put the finishing touches to the
kitchen--John-James doing all the real good that was done, and Annie
setting things backwards and forwards in her strange aimless way.
Upstairs Vassie was tying her hair--brushed out now into a short,
crimped fluff that made her look more like an angel than ever--with the
blue ribbon; while Archelaus and Tom greased their locks with the
remains of Tom's stolen butter. Soon Annie and John-James also went
upstairs to prepare themselves for the feast, and the kitchen grew
slowly dark.

Ishmael staggered across the last field with his bucket of fuel, his
lean little arms aching under its weight, but his mind singing the
triumphant refrain:

"The evening's coming, and I'm going to cry the Neck! I'm going to cry
the Neck!"




CHAPTER IV

PAGAN PASTORAL


The last of the corn had been reaped in Cloom fields and all was ready