‘Well, I’m off,’ said she soothingly. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Barker.’

‘Goo’-bye, dear. ’Ope you ’ave nice weather.’

Sophia walked away under the trees, her shoulders stretching pleasantly to the weight of the rucksack.

CHAPTER XIX

The night of September the first chanced to be unusually beautiful. There was a moon, a soft wandering wind, slow clouds and all the dim silver points of the stars.

It would not be strictly true to say that this night was never forgotten in the Vale, but it was remembered for a long time.

Motionless upon the landing of the second floor of 1 The Walk stood Miss Belper. It was nearly three in the morning. Miss Belper was looking out of the landing window, and by her side stood Mrs Amsett, who occupied the flat downstairs. Both ladies wore dressing gowns and looked extremely sleepy and angry.

‘If only the Colonel were at home!’ exclaimed Mrs Amsett, for the sixth time. ‘So unfortunate that he should have chosen this very weekend to go to Aldershot!’

‘I expect he, at least, is getting a proper night’s rest,’ said Miss Belper tartly. ‘Besides, even if he were here, what could he do?’

‘He could speak to them. He could go over and rap on the door. They would be bound to take some notice, surely.’

‘I don’t expect they could hear,’ said Miss Belper, yawning miserably. She added darkly, ‘Probably they are too far gone by now to hear anything.’

They returned to their gazing from the window.

‘I wonder the police haven’t interfered!’ suddenly and violently exclaimed Miss Belper.

Much the same thing was being said at Myrtle Cottage, The Hollies, 3 Vale Street, and most of the other houses in the luckless hamlet. Old Mr Pell, of Myrtle Cottage, had got so far as unchaining Jimmy Barrell, who was extremely pleased and excited at the prospect of a moonlight walk and began to bark loudly and cheerfully and had to be rushed back into his kennel and told to lie down, sir. Old Mr Pell went back to bed and put cotton wool in his ears.

Taffy, who lived in the house next door to the cottage, was awake too. Occasionally he did a bout of barking, and Dan the Airedale at 4 The Hollies joined in with eager pleasure. Other dogs (perhaps Wodge, whose sleeping quarters were wrapped in mystery, was among them) joined the chorus from time to time.

The little house from which came the furious racket of music, shouts and confused sounds blazed with light like a troll’s cave. All the Vale was moonlit, shadowy, still, surrounded by the wide grassy acres of the Heath where huge trees dreamed in the silver-green moonlight; and in contrast the cottage looked furiously glittering and alive.

‘It’s like a witch’s sabbath,’ said the sleepy, but inclined-to-be-sympathetic young husband at 5 The Walk, to his wife. He was twenty-four and liked parties.

‘I was thinking it looked like that advertisement for health-food – “sleepless in a sleeping world.”’