six. I'll take a mouthful o' oat-cake, and then we'll be off."

The coffin was soon propped on the tall shoulders of the two brothers,
and they were making their way, followed close by Gyp, out of the little
woodyard into the lane at the back of the house. It was but about a mile
and a half to Broxton over the opposite slope, and their road wound very
pleasantly along lanes and across fields, where the pale woodbines and
the dog-roses were scenting the hedgerows, and the birds were twittering
and trilling in the tall leafy boughs of oak and elm. It was a strangely
mingled picture--the fresh youth of the summer morning, with its
Edenlike peace and loveliness, the stalwart strength of the two brothers
in their rusty working clothes, and the long coffin on their shoulders.
They paused for the last time before a small farmhouse outside the
village of Broxton. By six o'clock the task was done the coffin nailed
down, and Adam and Seth were on their way home. They chose a shorter
way homewards, which would take them across the fields and the brook in
front of the house. Adam had not mentioned to Seth what had happened in
the night, but he still retained sufficient impression from it himself
to say, "Seth, lad, if Father isn't come home by the time we've had our
breakfast, I think it'll be as well for thee to go over to Treddles'on
and look after him, and thee canst get me the brass wire I want. Never
mind about losing an hour at thy work; we can make that up. What dost
say?"

"I'm willing," said Seth. "But see what clouds have gathered since we
set out. I'm thinking we shall have more rain. It'll be a sore time for
th' haymaking if the meadows are flooded again. The brook's fine and
full now: another day's rain 'ud cover the plank, and we should have to
go round by the road."