Strickland approached a farm-house, prosperous and venerable, mended and neat.

Thatched, long, white, and low, behind it barns and outbuildings, it stood tree-guarded, amid fields of young corn.

Beyond it swelled a long moorside; in front slipped the still stream.
There were stepping-stones across the stream.

Two young girls, coming toward the house, had set foot upon these.

Strickland, halting in the shadow of hazels and young aspens, watched them as they crossed.