the earth； and stared through the dusk at the shape of
the country。
“D’you know the points of the pass？” he asked。
“Well； of course；” said Mary。 “What d’you take me for？—
a Cockney like you？” She then told him exactly where the
north lay； and where the south。
“It’s my native land； this；” she said。 “I could smell my
way about it blindfold。”
As if to prove this boast； she walked a little quicker； so
that Ralph found it difficult to keep pace with her。 At the
same time； he felt drawn to her as he had never been
before； partly； no doubt； because she was more independent
of him than in London； and seemed to be attached
firmly to a world where he had no place at all。 Now the
dusk had fallen to such an extent that he had to follow
her implicitly； and even lean his hand on her shoulder
when they jumped a bank into a very narrow lane。 And he
felt curiously shy of her when she began to shout through
her hands at a spot of light which swung upon the mist
in a neighboring field。 He shouted； too； and the light
stood still。
“That’s Christopher； e in already； and gone to feed
his chickens；” she said。
She introduced him to Ralph； who could see only a tall
figure in gaiters； rising from a fluttering circle of soft feathery
bodies； upon whom the light fell in wavering discs；
calling out now a bright spot of yellow； now one of greenish
black and scarlet。 Mary dipped her hand in the bucket
he carried； and was at once the center of a circle also； and
as she cast her grain she talked alternately to the birds
and to her brother； in the same clucking； halfinarticulate
voice； as it sounded to Ralph； standing on the outskirts of
the fluttering feathers in his black overcoat。
He had removed his overcoat by the time they sat round
the dinnertable； but nevertheless he looked very strange
among the others。 A country life and breeding had preserved
in them all a look which Mary hesitated to call
either innocent or youthful； as she pared them； now
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Virginia Woolf
sitting round in an oval； softly illuminated by candlelight；
and yet it was something of the kind； yes； even in
the case of the Rector himself。 Though superficially marked
with lines； his face was a clear pink； and his blue eyes
had the longsighted； peaceful expression of eyes seeking
the turn of the road； or a distant light through rain；
or the darkness of winter。 She looked at Ralph。 He had
never appeared to her more concentrated and full of purpose；
as if behind his forehead were massed so much
experience that he could choose for himself which part
of it he would display and which part he would keep to
himself。 pared with that dark and stern countenance；
her brothers’ faces； bending low over their soupplates；
were mere circles of pink； unmolded flesh。
“You came by the 3。10； Mr。 Denham？” said the Reverend
Wyndham Datchet； tucking his napkin into his collar；
so that almost the whole of his body was concealed by a
large white diamond。 “They treat us very well； on the
whole。 Considering the increase of traffic； they treat us
very well indeed。 I have the curiosity sometimes to count
the trucks on the goods’ trains； and they’re well over fifty—
well over fifty； at this season of the year。”
The old gentleman had been roused agreeably by the
presence of this attentive and wellinformed young man；
as was evident by the care with which he finished the last
words in his sentences； and his slight exaggeration in the
number of trucks on the trains。 Indeed； the chief burden of
the talk fell upon him； and he sustained it tonight in a
manner which caused his sons to look at him admiringly
now and then； for they felt shy of Denham； and were glad
not to have to talk themselves。 The store of information
about the present and past of this particular corner of
Lincolnshire which old Mr。 Datchet produced really surprised
his children； for though they knew of its existence；
they had forgotten its extent； as they might have forgotten
the amount of family plate stored in the platechest；
until some rare celebration brought it forth。
After dinner； parish business took the Rector to his
study； and Mary proposed that they should sit in the
kitchen。
“It’s not the kitchen really；” Elizabeth hastened to explain
to her guest； “but we call it so—”
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Night and Day
“It’s the nicest room in the house；” said Edward。
“It’s got the old rests by the side of the fireplace； where
the men hung their guns；” said Elizabeth； leading the
way； with a tall brass candlestick in her hand； down a
passage。 “Show Mr。 Denham the steps； Christopher… 。
When the Ecclesiastical missioners were here two years
ago they said this was the most interesting part of the
house。 These narrow bricks prove that it is five hundred
years old—five hundred years； I think—they may have
said six。” She； too； felt an impulse to exaggerate the age
of the bricks； as her father had exaggerated the number
of trucks。 A big lamp hung down from the center of the
ceiling and； together with a fine log fire； illuminated a
large and lofty room； with rafters running from wall to
wall； a floor of red tiles； and a substantial fireplace built
up of those narrow red bricks which were said to be five
hundred years old。 A few rugs and a sprinkling of armchairs
had made this ancient kitchen into a sittingroom。
Elizabeth； after pointing out the gunracks； and the hooks
for smoking hams； and other evidence of incontestable
age； and explaining that Mary had had the idea of turn
ing the room into a sittingroom—otherwise it was used
for hanging out the wash and for the men to change in
after shooting—considered that she had done her duty
as hostess； and sat down in an upright chair directly beneath
the lamp； beside a very long and narrow oak table。
She placed a pair of horn spectacles upon her nose； and
drew towards her a basketful of threads and wools。 In a
few minutes a smile came to her face； and remained there
for the rest of the evening。
“Will you e out shooting with us tomorrow？” said
Christopher； who had； on the whole； formed a favorable
impression of his sister’s friend。
“I won’t shoot； but I’ll e with you；” said Ralph。
“Don’t you care about shooting？” asked Edward； whose
suspicions were not yet laid to rest。
“I’ve never shot in my life；” said Ralph； turning and
looking him in the face； because he was not sure how
this confession would be received。
“You wouldn’t have much chance in London； I suppose；”
said Christopher。 “But won’t you find it rather dull—just
watching us？”
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“I shall watch birds；” Ralph replied； with a smile。
“I can show you the place for watching birds；” said
Edward； “if that’s what you like doing。 I know a fellow
who es down from London about this time every year
to watch them。 It’s a great place for the wild geese and
the ducks。 I’ve heard this man say that it’s one of the
best places for birds in the country。”
“It’s about the best place in England；” Ralph replied。
They were all gratified by this praise of their native county；
and Mary now had the pleasure of hearing these short
questions and answers lose their undertone of suspicious
inspection； so far as her brothers were concerned； and
develop into a genuine conversation about the habits of
birds which afterwards turned to a discussion as to the
habits of solicitors； in which it was scarcely necessary for
her to take part。 She was pleased to see that her brothers
liked Ralph； to the extent； that is； of wishing to secure
his good opinion。 Whether or not he liked them it was
impossible to tell from his kind but experienced manner。
Now and then she fed the fire with a fresh log； and as the
room filled with the fine； dry heat of burning wood； they
all； with the exception of Elizabeth； who was outside the
range of the fire； felt less and less anxious about the
effect they were making； and more and more inclined for
sleep。 At this moment a vehement scratching was heard
on the door。
“Piper！—oh； damn！—I shall have to get up；” murmured
Christopher。
“It’s not Piper； it’s Pitch；” Edward grunted。
“All the same； I shall have to get up；” Christopher
grumbled。 He let in the dog； and stood for a moment by
the door； which opened into the garden； to revive himself
with a draught of the black； starlit air。
“Do e in and shut the door！” Mary cried； half turning
in her chair。
“We shall have a fine day tomorrow；” said Christopher
with placency； and he sat himself on the floor at her
feet； and leant his back against her knees； and stretched
out his long stockinged legs to the fire—all signs that he
felt no longer any restraint at the presence of the stranger。
He was the youngest of the family； and Mary’s favorite； partly
because his character resembled hers； as Edward’s character
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Night and Day
resembled Elizabeth’s。 She made her knees a fortable
rest for his head； and ran her fingers through his hai