"Hullo, Uncle! Supper's ready!"

The old man's face changed instantly. Its worn and scared
expression smoothed into a smile, and, loosening his hold of
Innocent, he straightened himself and stood erect.

"All right, my lad! You've worked pretty late!"

"Yes, and we've not done yet. But we shall finish stacking
tomorrow," answered Clifford--"Just now we're all tired and
hungry."

"Don't say you're thirsty!" said the old farmer, his smile
broadening. "How many barrels have been tapped to-day?"

"Oh, well! You'd better ask Landon,"--and Clifford's light laugh
had a touch of scorn in it,--"he's the man for the beer! I hardly
ever touch it--Innocent knows that."

"More work's done on water after all," said Jocelyn. "The horses
that draw for us and the cattle that make food for us prove that.
But we think we're a bit higher than the beasts, and some of us
get drunk to prove it! That's one of our strange ways as men! Come
along, lad! And you, child,"--here he turned to Innocent--"run and
tell Priscilla we're waiting in the Great Hall."

He seemed to have suddenly lost all feebleness, and walked with a
firm step into what he called the Great Hall, which was
distinguished by this name from the lesser or entrance hall of the
house. It was a nobly proportioned, very lofty apartment, richly