their airy shelf, the tops of the trees appeared like a solid green
road, on which they might drop down and walk. Stone steps in the stone
wall admitted them into the enclosure, and then they saw the low gray
house spreading itself in the shadow of the noble sycamores--

... "musical with bees;
Such tents the patriarchs loved."

As they approached, the old statesman strode to the open door to meet
them. He was a very tall man, with a bright, florid face, and a great
deal of fine, white hair. Two large sheep-dogs, which only wanted a hint
to be uncivil, walked beside him. He had that independent manner which
honorable descent and absolute ownership of house and land give; and he
looked every inch a gentleman, though he wore only the old dalesman's
costume,--breeches of buckskin fastened at the knees with five silver
buttons, home-knit stockings and low shoes, and a red waistcoat, open
that day, in order to show the fine ruffles on his shirt. He was
precisely what Squire Sandal would have been, if the Sandals had not
been forced by circumstances into contact with a more cultivated and a
more ambitious life.

"Welcome, Sandal! I have been watching for thee. There would be little
prosperation in a shearing if thou wert absent. And a good day to thee,
Charlotte. My Ducie was speaking of thee a minute ago. Here she comes to
help thee off with thy things."

Charlotte was untying her bonnet as she entered the deep, cool porch,
and a moment afterward Ducie was at her side. It was easy to see the
women loved each other, though Ducie only smiled, and said, "Come in;
I'm right glad to see you, Charlotte. Come into t' best room, and cool