"Iss," he said with a gesture towards the roof. "I see it's blawed off
one of the tiles and broke a pane of glass."
"You won't be able to get it mended now till after Christmas," said Mrs.
Tom sympathetically. She pressed her face against the window, peering
in. "No one up yet?"
"Well, they didn't go to bed till late last night," Richbell reminded
her.
"Dessay they've overslept theirself!" Mrs. Tom took the door key from
under a stone where Sabina had hidden it in readiness. During the
night, with one of the rapid changes to which that coast is liable, the
wind had dropped. Frost had stilled the thousand voices of the earth
and, in the house, doors hung without creak or movement and the chimneys
were hushed. As she crossed the threshold Mrs. Tom shivered.
"'Tis a whisht old place," she said, "and cold."