The sheep-dog had pricked its ears, then listened intently, then gone into the passage whining and growling.
"Pinder thinks it's time to be goin' whom'," said Aleck, as he followed the cur into the passage. The dog laid its nose to the bottom of the thick door; whined and began frantically to scratch at the door beneath which the snow had drifted in thin sprays. When Aleck neared the dog it leaped on him and then with looks more eloquent than speech compelled him to the door.
"Ther's summat up," said Aleck, as he opened the door. "Bring th' lantern, missus."
The dog bounded out, set its head to the ground and howled dismally. Aleck stooped, his big hands swept away a big mound of snow and he lifted something in his arms. "Mak' way theer," he cried, as nearly excited as ever Aleck had been known to be; "mak' way; it's a woman an' oo's dead, aw'm thinkin'."
He bore his burthen, almost covered with its cold winding sheet of snow, into the warm kitchen, and laid it before the fire. Mrs. Schofield had snatched a cushion from the settle and placed it under the head of the lifeless figure. The men had risen to their feet and gazed helplessly at the rigid form. They saw the fair young face, marble white and set, fair tresses, sodden through. Upon the feet were shoes of flimsy make, the heel gone from one of them. A slight cape covered a thin dress of good make and material, but far too tenuous for winter wear, and all was travel-stained and soaked through.
Moll o' Stute's thrust the men aside. "Go whom," she said, "yo're nooan wanted here." She put her hand into the woman's bosom. "Gi' me some brandy," she said. It was there already, held in Mrs. Schofield's trembling hand. A little passed the lips and gurgled down the throat. A little more and the potent spirit did its saving work. The white thin hand twitched, the eyes partly opened, then closed again as a faint sigh breathed from the pallid lips.
"Put th' warming pan i' th' best bed, an' leet a fire upstairs," commanded Moll. "I'st be wanted afore mornin' or aw'st be capped."
"Shall Aleck fetch Dr. Garstang?" ventured Mr. Redfearn.
"Garstang fiddlesticks," snapped Moll. "This is wark for me, aw tell yo'. There'll be one more i' this house bi morn, and happen one less, God save us. But get you gone an' moither me no more."