Betty and the men were in the field helping with the last load of hay, for the minister said there would be rain before the morning.  Yes, and the minister himself, and Phillis, and Mr Holdsworth, were all there helping.  She thought that she herself could have done something; but perhaps she was the least fit for hay-making of any one; and somebody must stay at home and take care of the house, there were so many tramps about; if I had not had something to do with the railroad she would have called them navvies.  I asked her if she minded being left alone, as I should like to go arid help; and having her full and glad permission to leave her alone, I went off, following her directions:  through the farmyard, past the cattle-pond, into the ashfield, beyond into the higher field with two holly-bushes in the middle.  I arrived there:  there was Betty with all the farming men, and a cleared field, and a heavily laden cart; one man at the top of the great pile ready to catch the fragrant hay which the others threw up to him with their pitchforks; a little heap of cast-off clothes in a corner of the field (for the heat, even at seven o’clock, was insufferable), a few cans and baskets, and Rover lying by them panting, and keeping watch.  Plenty of loud, hearty, cheerful talking; but no minister, no Phillis, no Mr Holdsworth.  Betty saw me first, and understanding who it was that I was in search of, she came towards me.

‘They’re out yonder—­agait wi’ them things o’ Measter Holdsworth’s.’  So ‘out yonder’ I went; out on to a broad upland common, full of red sand-banks, and sweeps and hollows; bordered by dark firs, purple in the coming shadows, but near at hand all ablaze with flowering gorse, or, as we call it in the south, furze-bushes, which, seen against the belt of distant trees, appeared brilliantly golden.  On this heath, a little way from the field-gate, I saw the three.  I counted their heads, joined together in an eager group over Holdsworth’s theodolite.  He was teaching the minister the practical art of surveying and taking a level.  I was wanted to assist, and was quickly set to work to hold the chain.  Phillis was as intent as her father; she had hardly time to greet me, so desirous was she to hear some answer to her father’s question.  So we went on, the dark clouds still gathering, for perhaps five minutes after my arrival.  Then came the blinding lightning and the rumble and quick-following rattling peal of thunder right over our heads.  It came sooner than I expected, sooner than they had looked for:  the rain delayed not; it came pouring down; and what were we to do for shelter?  Philiis had nothing on but her indoor things—­no bonnet, no shawl.  Quick as the darting lightning around us, Holdsworth took off his coat and wrapped it round her neck and shoulders, and, almost without a word, hurried us all into such poor shelter as one of the overhanging sand-banks could give.  There we were, cowered down, close together, Phillis innermost, almost too tightly packed to free her arms enough to divest herself of the coat, which she, in her turn, tried to put lightly over Holdsworth’s shoulders.  In doing so she touched his shirt.