Dale laughed when Billy scampered away
resolutely, and Norah had to run to catch him.
"Le' me go," roared Bill.
"Na, na," said Norah, "you mustn't go brevetin' about so far. Bide wi'
sister and me, an' chain the daffies."
And Dale noticed the musical note in Norah's voice, almost like a wild
bird singing. It was a pleasure to him to see the little maid making
herself so useful; and it corroborated what Mavis had told him about
her being splendid in taking care of the chicks, as well as keeping
them happy and amused.
He put on his black coat, fetched out a pair of brown dogskin gloves,
and then, failing to find the silk hat, came to the top of the
staircase and shouted for Mary.
"My hat, Mary. Where in the name of reason is my hat?"
His shouts broke the Sunday silence, filled the house with noise, went
rolling through the open windows in swift vibrations. Norah Veale
under the blossoming apple tree caught up the cry as though she had
been an echo, and ran with the children after her.
"Mary, the master's hat. Mary, Mary! Master wants his hat."
Then she appeared at the foot of the stairs, with an anxious excited
face and speaking breathlessly.
"Mary can't leave th' Yorkshire pudden, sir; but she says she saw Mrs.
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