It was a low house, with smooth grey thatch and buff walls, looking pleasant and mellow in the evening light.

The leaded windows were bright and speckless, and the door-stone was as clean as a white boulder at ebb tide.

On the door-stone stood a clean old woman, in a dark-striped linen gown, a red kerchief, and a linen cap, talking to some speckled fowls which appeared to have been drawn towards her by an illusory expectation of cold potatoes or barley.

The old woman's sight seemed to be dim, for she did not recognize Adam till he said, "Here's the key, Dolly; lay it down for me in the house, will you ?" "Aye, sure; but wunna ye come in, Adam?
Miss Mary's i' th' house, and Mester Burge 'ull be back anon; he'd be glad t' ha' ye to supper wi'm, I'll be's warrand." "No, Dolly, thank you; I'm off home.

Good evening." Adam hastened with long strides, Gyp close to his heels, out of the workyard, and along the highroad leading away from the village and down to the valley.