"Mrs. Tall, I've come for the key of the granary, to get at the rick-cloths," said Oak, in a stentorian voice.
"Is that you?" said Mrs. Susan Tall, half awake.
"Yes," said Gabriel.
"Come along to bed, do, you draw-latching rogue—keeping a body awake like this!"
"It isn't Laban—'tis Gabriel Oak. I want the key of the granary."
"Gabriel! What in the name of fortune did you pretend to be Laban for?"
"I didn't. I thought you meant———"
"Yes you did. What do you want here?"
"The key of the granary."
"Take it, then. "Tis on the nail. People coming disturbing women at this time of night ought———"
Gabriel took the key, without waiting to hear the conclusion of the tirade. Ten minutes later his lonely figure might have been seen dragging four large waterproof coverings across the yard, and soon two of these heaps of treasure in grain were covered snug—two cloths to each. Two hundred pounds were secured. Three wheatstacks remained open, and there were no more cloths. Oak looked under the staddles and found a fork. He mounted the third pile of wealth and began operating, adopting the plan
