~

3

flaymaking.
all gathered round me under the shade of an ash-
tree, talking. They had seen how it would be
from the first, they said; the boy was not fit for the
work ; he was in a decline, most likely, and would
go like his mother before him. It was a shame to
work the child so; his father ought to have known
better than to send him out, and Simon Williams
than to employ him. “Please, Pm all right now,”
I said, struggling to get up. But the women insisted
on my remaining quietly under the tree while they
took a turn of raking down the field and up again ;
and then one of them came and offered to accom-
pany me home. I had to stop a few times on the
way, but at last she delivered me safely at our
door, together with this message, that Iarmer
Williams would not want me again. I escaped
from Nance’s hundred and one questions into my
loft, and to bed, where I remained the next
morning, until IT wanted my breakfast so much that
I had to come down and get it. My father had
come home late, and called up to me before he
started again in the morning to ask how I was, to
which I answered, “ All right.”

I was glad he was gone when I came down, for
I hated being seen—-hated myself and everybody
else at that time, I think. Iwas most unreasonably

miserable, for I was vexed at the thought of being