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She must find out who had done it, though she knew that sacrilege was not a crime that could be punished in the land to-day. So she went charging recklessly through the shaw, set only on coming the quickest way to Holly Crouch, leaping the fence, unaware of the commotion in the ditch. The farmstead seemed deserted, but she could see a crowd of men and lads at work on the new house beside the road.

Ned Harman saw her coming. Being the youngest, he had been given the plaster to mix—beating up the fine calf's hair, mixing the sand and clay, and then when it was all set, breaking it up to powder and mixing it again.

"Look, Father! Here comes galloping Kate."

That was how they called her among themselves in the country round Holly Horns, for she always seemed to be on horseback, madding about the lanes and commons, instead of sitting in the privée parlour at Conster Manor with her needle or her lute, or riding out hawking or hunting with her father the Squire. Some said it was all for want of being married at the right time and of there being no nunnery left to put her in with others like her.