A little trace of colour crept into the girl's cheek, but it faded
again as she sat down beside the stove. Still, now and then she
pricked her fingers with the needle, which she had not done before, and
finally laid down the fabric and laughed softly. "There is," she said,
"something distinctly humorous in the whole position."

"You," said her father, "had always a somewhat peculiar sense of
humour."

"Well," said his daughter with a slight quiver of her lips, "I feel
that I must either cry or laugh to-night. Do you know there is
scarcely enough for breakfast in the house, and that I am dreadfully
hungry now?"

Townshead glanced at her reproachfully. "Either one or the other would
be equally distasteful to me," he said.

The girl sighed, and turned away to thrust a few small billets into the
stove. She chose them carefully, for the big box whose ugliness she
had hidden by a strip of cheap printed cotton was almost empty. The
hired man, seeing no prospect of receiving his wages, had departed
after a stormy interview, and shortly after his son followed him.
Townshead discovered that sawing wood was especially unsuited to his
constitution. Then the girl increased the draught a little and
endeavoured to repress a shiver. The house was damp for want of proper
packing, and the cold wind that came down from the high peaks moaned
about it eerily. It was also very lonely, and the girl, who was young,
felt a great longing for human fellowship.

Her father presently took up a book, and there was silence only broken