BOOK I

PHŒBE BARRASFORD


_Krindlesyke is a remote shepherd’s cottage on the Northumbrian fells,
at least three miles from any other habitation. It consists of two
rooms, a but and a ben. EZRA BARRASFORD, an old herd, blind and
decrepit, sits in an armchair in the but, or living-room, near the
open door, on a mild afternoon in April. ELIZA BARRASFORD, his wife,
is busy, making griddle-cakes over the peat fire._

ELIZA (_glancing at the wag-at-the-wa’_):
It’s hard on three o’clock, and they’ll be home
Before so very long now.

EZRA:
Eh, what’s that?

ELIZA:
You’re growing duller every day. I said
They’d soon be home now.

EZRA:
They? And who be they?

ELIZA:
My faith, you’ve got a memory like a milk-sile!
You’ve not forgotten Jim’s away to wed?
You’re not that dull.