CHAPTER VI. 



A SOFT westerly wind from the distant sea shimmering in a 

 narrow ghttering line under the morning sun welcomed Jack 

 Morgan as he stood outside the garden door at Dewthorpe. 

 Below him the garden itself sloped towards the meadows 

 where the Alderneys were busy feeding with many snorts 

 and puffs after the manner of cattle which have just been 

 emancipated from the cowsheds. 



A subtle scent of wallflowers pervaded the air, and every 

 now and then a shower of petals from the plum trees 

 powdered the lap of spring with a mock snowstorm. Jack 

 strolled idly along a pathway bordered with clumps of showy 

 tulips and bright with the varying greens of delphiniums 

 and lilies rapidly maturing the spikes which would anon 

 burst into a blaze of colour ; he felt singularly contented, 

 though the spirit of discontent was foreign to him. As he 

 passed through a door in a grey stone wall a rattle of tin 

 vessels and the swish of a broom upon a wet floor arrested 

 his attention. 



" The dairy, undoubtedly," he said to himself, and then 

 he quickened his step, for seated outside, with the air of 

 one who waits in patience but with certainty of purpose, 

 was John Knox. Either observation or instinct convinced 

 Mr. Morgan that John Knox (whom he had observed was 

 styled ''Johnnie" on the domestic hearth) meant Miss 

 Badsworth. 



And so it was. Within the dairy, clad in a dainty lavender 

 cotton frock, over which was a white bib apron, with sleeves 

 rolled to the elbow, displaying well-shaped, snowy arms, a 

 tweed cap upon her head, Miss Lavvy was busy with a pile 



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