“What, Norah,” said Mavis, laughing, “you a country girl, and afraid of a flitter-mouse!”

“Yes,” said Billy, “she’s afraid of the flitty-mouse.  Isn’t she a coward?  You are a coward, Norah.”

And then the laugh was turned against Billy; for the bat passing again and lower than before, Billy himself ducked and crouched automatically.

“Who’s the coward now, young sir?”

“I don’t mind anything that has wings,” said Rachel.  “It’s what goes creeping and crawling that I’m afraid of.”

“I don’t mind ear-wigs,” said Billy defiantly.

And Dale, while he talked without interest and ate without appetite, watched Norah.  She had changed her gown an hour ago, and obviously when changing had discarded the burden of under-petticoats; this other gown hung close and yet limp about her limbs, modeling itself to each slim length and shapely curve; and he thought it made her look like the statue of a Grecian hand-maiden-such as he had seen many years before in illustrations of learned books.  When she stood near him, he noticed nothing but the blackness of her hair or the whiteness of her cheeks; and then he thought she looked somehow wild and fantastic, like a person that one can see only in dreams.  But whether she was near him or at a little distance, so long as she remained in sight, he was unintermittently conscious that the essential charm that she shed forth could be traced directly to her youth.

“Good night, daddy.”

“Good night, Rachel.”

His daughter had kissed him, and she stood between his knees while he patted her and caressed her.  She too was young and fresh and sweet-smelling; and yet the touch of her purified one.  So long as he was holding her, it seemed to him that a father’s love is so great and so pure that there can not be any other love in the world.

But a minute afterward, when his own girl had gone and the other girl was again before his eyes, all the impure unworthy unpermissible desires came rushing back upon him.

They lighted lamps in the kitchen presently, and he sat staring at the open doorway, alone now, after the table had been cleared.  The doorway seemed like an empty picture-frame.  But each time that Norah came and stood there looking out for a moment, the picture was in its frame.  With the light behind her, she was just a thin black figure; and he thought how slight, how weak and small a thing to possess such tremendous, almost irresistible power over him.

Next evening, between tea-time and supper-time, Norah absented herself without leave.  Mavis did not miss her at first.  Then she thought that very probably the girl was wandering about with the children, or gossiping with the maid at the dairy; but then old Mrs. Goudie, who had come to pay a call at the back door, said she had met Norah and had a chat with her “up th’ road.”  On being further examined, Mrs. Goudie said that Norah, after bidding her good night, had got over the stile at the second footpath into Hadleigh Wood.