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In despite of the Minister, voice after voice took up the clamour. Farmer Tossell's louder than any. And in the height of the fervour Tilda bent her head yet lower, twisted her neck sideways, and stared up at the ring of faces from between her ankles!
Tossell's dinner-horn; it seemed to travel, too, from a distance beyond the farm, and as Tilda listened, it was followed by a yet fainter sound, as of many dogs baying or barking together. 'Dolph heard it, yapped excitedly, and made a dash out through the doorway. But, when Tilda followed, the sounds had died away.
"Where are the children?" she asked. "Nowhere in sight." "That's odd. Tossell's punctual in everything as a rule rent included. Well, I must leave you to keep an eye on them. . . . Do you know anything about Bursfield? The best hotel there, for instance?
"'Regret to say children missing. Supposed left Inistow Cove Tossell's boat Saturday night. Boat found ashore Clatworthy Beach. Search parties along coast. Will report any news. Chichester." "When did you get this, ma'am, making so bold?" "At nine this morning. If you look, you will see the telegram was handed in at 8.37, and received here at 8.50 is it not? The sender is a Mr.
Close beside the edge of the fall stood a mud-walled cottage, untenanted and roofless, relic of a time when Farmer Tossell's father had adventured two or three hundred pounds in the fishery, and kept a man here with two grown sons to look after his nets. Nettles crowded the doorway, and even sprouted from crevices of the empty window sockets.
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