Will ta come t' hunt dinner at
Eltham on Thursday?"
"Nay, I wont. I'll not bite nor sup at thy table again till we see
what we shall see. If I want to say what I think about thee, I'm none
going to tie my tongue aforehand."
"We'll be fast friends yet. See, if we bean't! Good-bye to thee,
Hallam. Thou'lt be going through t' park, I expect?"
"Ay; I'll like enough find company there."
It was about three o'clock, gray and chill. There had been a good deal
of snow, and, except where it was brushed away from the foot-path,
it lay white and unbroken, the black trunks of the trees among it
looking like pillars of ebony in the ivory-paved courts of a temple.
Up in the sky winter was passing with all his somber train, the clouds
flying rapidly in great grotesque masses, and seeming to touch the tops
of the trees like a gloomy, floating veil.
Phyllis and Elizabeth, wrapped in woolens and furs, walked cheerily
on, Phyllis leaning upon the arm of Elizabeth. They were very happy,
and their low laughter and snatches of Christmas carols made a distinct
sound in the silent park, for the birds were all quiet and preoccupied,
and flitted about the hawthorns with anxious little ways that were
almost human in their care and melancholy. The girls had some crumbs
of bread and ears of wheat in a basket, and they scattered them here
and there in sheltered nooks.
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