Moreover the very floor began to ripple, as a loose carpet will ripple on a gusty day: in opening the cellar door the blacks had let the wind in, and now for some time they could not shut it again. The wind, to push against, was more like a solid block than a current of air.

Mr. Thornton went round the house⁠—to see what could be done, he said. He soon realised that the next thing to go would be the roof. So he returned to the Niobe-group in the dining-room. Mrs. Thornton was halfway through The Lady of the Lake , the smaller children listening with rapt attention. Exasperated, he told them that they would probably not be alive in half an hour. No one seemed particularly interested in his news: Mrs. Thornton continued her recitation with faultless memory.