Much of the work of the farm, such as the carting of hay and corn in harvest-time, was done upon sleds; the waggons (there were but few of them) being reserved for longer journeys on the rough roads.  This waggon, laden with wool, some of the season’s clip, had come in four or five miles from an out-lying cot, or sheep-pen, at the foot of the hills.  In the buildings round the granary yard there were stored not only the corn and flour required for the retainers (who might at any moment become a besieged garrison), but the most valuable products of the estate, the wool, hides, and tanned leather from the tan-pits, besides a great quantity of bacon and salt beef; indeed, every possible article that could be needed.

These buildings were put together with wooden pins, on account of the scarcity of iron, and were all (dwelling-houses included) roofed with red tile.  Lesser houses, cottages, and sheds at a distance were thatched, but in an enclosure tiles were necessary, lest, in case of an attack, fire should be thrown.

Half an hour later, at six o’clock, the watchman blew his horn as loudly as possible for some two or three minutes, the hollow sound echoing through the place.  He took the time by the sundial on the wall, it being a summer morning; in winter he was guided by the position of the stars, and often, when sun or stars were obscured, went by guess.  The house horn was blown thrice a day; at six in the morning, as a signal that the day had begun, at noon as a signal for dinner, at six in the afternoon as a signal that the day (except in harvest-time) was over.  The watchmen went their round about the enclosure all night long, relieved every three hours, armed with spears, and attended by mastiffs.  By day one sufficed, and his station was then usually (though not always) on the highest part of the roof.

The horn re-awoke Felix; it was the note by which he had been accustomed to rise for years.  He threw open the oaken shutters, and the sunlight and the fresh breeze of the May morning came freely into the room.  There was now the buzz of voices without, men unloading the wool, men at the workshops and in the granaries, and others waiting at the door of the steward’s store for the tools, which he handed out to them.  Iron being so scarce, tools were a temptation, and were carefully locked up each night, and given out again in the morning.

Felix went to the ivory cross and kissed it in affectionate recollection of Aurora, and then looked towards the open window, in the pride and joy of youth turning to the East, the morning, and the light.  Before he had half dressed there came a knock and then an impatient kick at the door.  He unbarred it, and his brother Oliver entered.  Oliver had been for his swim in the river.  He excelled in swimming, as, indeed, in every manly exercise, being as active and energetic as Felix was outwardly languid.