XXI. Troubles in the Fold—A Message

           

           GabrielOakhadceasedtofeedtheWeatherburyflockforaboutfour-and-twentyhours,whenonSundayafternoontheelderlygentlemenJosephPoorgrass,MatthewMoon,Fray,andhalf-a-dozenothers,camerunninguptothehouseofthemistressoftheUpperFarm.

           "Whateveristhematter,men?"shesaid,meetingthematthedoorjustasshewascomingoutonherwaytochurch,andceasinginamomentfromtheclosecompressionofhertworedlips,withwhichshehadaccompaniedtheexertionofpullingonatightglove.

           "Sixty!"saidJosephPoorgrass.

           "Seventy!"saidMoon.

           "Fifty-nine!"saidSusanTall’shusband.

           "Sheephavebrokefence,"saidFray.

           "Andgotintoafieldofyoungclover,"saidTall.

           "Youngclover!"saidMoon.

           "Clover!"saidJosephPoorgrass.

           "Andtheybegettingblasted,"saidHeneryFray.

           "Thattheybe,"saidJoseph.

           "Andwillalldieasdeadasnits,iftheybain’tgotoutandcured!"saidTall.

           Joseph’scountenancewasdrawnintolinesandpuckersbyhisconcern.Fray’sforeheadwaswrinkledbothperpendicularlyandcrosswise,afterthepatternofaportcullis,expressiveofadoubledespair.LabanTall’slipswerethin,andhisfacewasrigid.Matthew’sjawssank,andhiseyesturnedwhicheverwaythestrongestmusclehappenedtopullthem.

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