"What ever he be come for ?" she murmured.
The squires' horse stamped on the tiled path.

It was eight o'clock, and he wanted to get home to his supper.

The squire growled at him inarticulately, and there fell a silence.
The evening light spread golden over the apple-trees in the orchard.
Someone was wandering among the falling blossoms.

He heard a low voice softly singing.

He flung his leg over his horse's back abruptly and dropped to the ground.
The voice stopped immediately.