Without a word Jonty seized Tibbs and two of the kittens and Tess took the other two in her free hand. Then they marched across to the farmhouse. Mr and Mrs Bell were both in the kitchen, and Tess waited for an explosion of wrath from one or other when they realised that she and Jonty were bringing them more work and not less. But she wronged them. Mrs Bell grabbed a basket and lined it with a piece of dry towelling, then took the cat and her kittens and placed them in it. Then she shook her head over the state of the little creatures Tess had been holding. ‘They’re in a poor way, the little rats,’ she murmured. ‘What ha’ come to them?’

‘We don’t know; these two were in the mud in the hazel pasture, quite near the gate,’ Tess said tremulously. ‘We thought they were dead at first, but then the white one seemed to be trying to move his head and the tabby opened one eye.’

Mrs Bell looked up from her contemplation of the basket of kittens. ‘Where’s the other two?’ she demanded. ‘I’d be ready to swear Tibbs had eight, and there’s only six here.’

Tess explained sadly that the other two had been killed by falling roof tiles.

Mr Bell came over and examined the kittens curiously, and even as he did so the warmth seemed to have its effect and the white kitten gave an enormous yawn and then began the weaving motion of the head which indicated that it was hungry and searching for Tibbs’s nipple. The farmer laughed. ‘They’ll do,’ he said. ‘You’ve done well. Tibbs have good kittens and they’ll go to good homes. But what news of the in-pig gilts? Any of ’em aborted? It do happen if a storm terrifies a critter.’

‘We didn’t see any dead piglets, and we had a good look round,’ Jonty said at once. ‘What about the horses and the cattle, Dad? And I’m afraid the day-old chicks took a battering. There’s a deal of dead ones, trod into the mud by the hazel pasture. And none of the hens brought chicks with them when they came running for the food.’

His mother shook her head chidingly at him. ‘And you a farmer’s son!’ she said reprovingly. ‘A broody hen won’t leave her nest no matter if the world were come to an end, and one with chicks is the same. Nor they won’t come for food; you have to go to them. So out wi’ you, young Jonty, and look in ditches, haystacks, any outbuildings what are still standin’, and listen, because a happy hen make a croodlin’ noise.’ She turned to Tess and her rather dour face softened into a smile. ‘I reckon you’ve had enough for one day, my dear. Jonty’s quite capable of finding the broodies if you’d like to stay in the kitchen and have a nice cup of tea and a fresh baked scone.’

‘Oh, no thanks, Mrs Bell. I know very well what to do with broodies, and if Jonty and I search separately then we can be through in half the time,’ Tess said. ‘Is there anything else we ought to do whilst we’re outside? Only I think we ought to hurry, because I believe it’s starting to rain again.’