“Dis yere little ole pup don slink back like he seed a hant and he had burrs stickin’ to his sorry-lookin’ hide—­seems he was off the scent.  No ’count!”

Jed gave the hound a push with his foot, but he had set Nancy’s nerves tingling.

“I lost the scent myself,” she said, striving for calmness.  And then relying upon the old man’s simplicity she asked, pointing across The Gap: 

“What did you say was the name of that peak, Uncle Jed?” She wanted to make very sure!

The old man raised his bleary eyes and looked troubled.  He was conscious of something stirring in the dark of his mind.

“Thunder,” he replied, then he laughed, and the gold in his few remaining teeth glistened.  Cackling and shuffling along beside Nancy, he muttered—­his mind again on old Becky: 

“Her—­as was—­or her as is!  Maybe she ain’t a was—­’pears like she can’t be an is.”  Then he grew calmer and faced Nancy.  “Stay away from Thunder, chile.  ’Tain’t safe, Thunder ain’t—­only fer hants.”

“I’ll stay away, Uncle Jed,” Nancy promised fervently, and tried to laugh off the foolish, superstitious fear that the old man’s words had aroused.

Jed went off muttering—­he was strangely disturbed.

As the first impression of her adventure wore off Nancy was surprised to find that a new fear and restlessness oppressed her.  It was like the after effects of a blow that had stunned her.

She slept badly—­a terrific electric storm swept through The Gap and there seemed, to the frightened girl in the west chamber, noises never heard before.  Creaking steps in the hall; calls in the wind and sharp summons as the branches of the trees lashed the windows and the blazing lightning shattered the darkness with blinding flashes.

Nancy crept downstairs the next morning pale and shaken.  She rallied, however, when she saw Doris.

Doris was greatly affected by electric storms and was lying on a couch by the hearth.  Doctor Martin was sitting beside her, and the little breakfast tray, laid for the three, was drawn close.

They ate the meal quietly, and then Martin took up a book to read aloud while Nancy went to her loom.

She huddled over it—­there was no other word to describe her crouching, lax attitude; her face was drawn and haggard.  Doris watched her; she was not listening to Martin.  Suddenly she felt a kind of shock as she realized that she was thinking of Nancy as an old woman!

As the spring holds all the promise of autumn in its delicate shading, so youth often depicts the time on ahead when line and colour will take on the aspect of age.

It was startling.  Doris almost cried aloud.  Nancy old!  Nancy lean and shrivelled with her pretty back bent to—­the burden of life!

Then Doris laughed nervously, and Martin started.  The book he was reading from was no laughing matter.

“Forgive me, David—­I was not listening; I was—­planning.  You know how agile a mind can be after—­a bad headache?” This was not convincing to Martin and he scowled.