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After returning their stares she turned her back on them and walked away, until the mud came with a plop between her shoulder blades.

Swinging round, she saw that Mrs. Smith had thrown it and that Mrs.

Proctor was stooping down and scooping up a handful of darts. But when she had straightened and pulled back her arm, she stopped, and while still looking at Cissie she turned her hand 'round, and the darts fell with a sound like cows' splatter on the ground again.

Alone on the fells, she put her head down and cried, but she wiped away all traces of her tears before she entered the dwelling again, where now the room and cave seemed almost empty, holding only Sarah, Charlotte, Joe, Annie, and Nellie.

Bella had been installed for a month in Pinewood House, Westoe, in Shields, and on her two half-days she had kept them enthralled with tales of the splendor of the establishment. Nine in the family there were and fifteen servants to look after them, and the master, Mr.

Braithwaite, owned a brewery and other places besides; and she had said to Cissie, if she only saw the clothes the young mistresses wore she would faint right away. And did she know that Miss Catherine, who was the same age as herself, never wore less than four petticoats and the two top ones had six rows of lace on them from the waist down. And then there was the life that went on in the house; and the visitors; and the carriages coming and going. Oh, it was wonderful, wonderful.

That is, she admitted after a time, except for the work. She was at the poss tub and the mangle from six till noon, but of course they had time off for breakfast. Then from twelve till half-past six at night she was ironing the roughs, which were the servants' clothes; but of course she had a half-hour for her dinner.

And Mrs. Weir, the laundress, had promised her that if she paid attention she would let her iron the young mistress's hankies, and that was something to look forward to.

Mary's visits were different. Mary was quiet and tired looking; she was thin, thinner even than Sarah and Charlotte; she didn't talk much but she sat close to Cissie all the while; and one day when Cissie, putting her arm around her, asked, "Are you all right, Mary?" she replied, her blue eyes misting, "When I'm fourteen, Cissie, and experienced, can I look out for something' else?" And Cissie said,

"Yes, dear, yes, perhaps afore that."

As she had worried more over William than she had over Jimmy, now she worried more over Mary than she did over Bella, although until Bella had gone into service it was she with her forward ways who had given her concern.

Anyway, she now had only five of them to see to.

By the middle of December she had stopped being sick in the morning and felt well again, at least in her body. There was a small mound in her stomach on which she placed her hands at night, but it created no feeling in her, not even of regret or resentment; the thing was done and couldn't be undone, it had to be faced. And although she didn't want this child, it was in her and it would be born, and part of it would be her; reason it out as she might that she had taken no part in the act, part of the child would be her. The Sunday before Christmas Day the boys did not come over the frost-hard fells with sacks; instead, they came on the cart with Matthew, and on the cart there were not only sacks holding the usual gifts of oatmeal, bread, and cheese, but also a sack with a currant cake in it, a bag of onions, and a dish of pease pudding. And that was not all. There was a great bundle of clothing on the cart, clothing belonging to Rose Watson's mother, and her mother before her, which had been stored away in the loft and which, her message said, she hoped Cissie would find useful in cutting up for the children. The woman was kind. If only she didn't know why she was being kind, she would want to bless her, for the clothes were like a gift from heaven itself.

It was weeks since she had seen Matthew, and now that he was near to her she could not look at him, nor apparently he at her. He gave all his attention to Annie, Charlotte and Sarah as they hung round him, touching him, vying with each other for his hand on their head, for he was the only man in their lives;

meanwhile Joe was being playfully punched and teased by William and Jimmy, both of them, their cheeks red, their eyes bright, and overall well-looking.

When the hullabaloo died down she glanced at Matthew and said, "Could you do with a drop of tea?" and he was on the point of refusing when he changed his mind, saying, "Aye. Yes, it's been a cold drive, I could do with something hot." He didn't feel mean in taking her tea for he had a quarter pound in the tail of his greatcoat pocket which he would put on the chest when she wasn't looking, and with it a pound of sugar, and that would be luxury for her indeed.

When they'd all had "a drop of tea," Jimmy, with wisdom beyond his years, contrived to leave their Cissie alone for a minute or so with Matthew by saying, "Come on the lot of you's an' do some chop- pin'.

There's a barley sugar for the one of you's who does the most, not countin' you, our Willie. " He held up the sweet in one hand while punching at his brother with the other. Then they all scampered through the doorway and outside; and Cissie went and closed the door after them to keep the cold out before going to the top of the chest where the food had been emptied. Touching one thing after another, she said quietly over her shoulder, " Will you tell her that I'm grateful?

"

There was a pause before he said, "She knows that," and another pause before he asked, "How you getting' along?"

"Oh, finely." She glanced at him and smiled.

"The wood's a godsend;

we'd never have been able to manage without the wood. "

"You've got enough to last you another month or so, I imagine?" he said.

"Oh, longer than that. The pile seems bigger than the place." She moved her eyes about the room.

"And I keep pickin' to help it along."

"You shouldn't go out pickin' this weather. Are ... are you feeling all right in yourself?"

"Yes, yes." She pulled her shoulders up straight, as if aiming to flatten her stomach.

He walked down the length of the table, then back, and stopped in front of the little fireplace, and putting his hands out to the blaze said,

"Do you know where to get help?"

"Help?"

He knew that her face was turned towards him questioningly as was her voice, but he didn't look at her as he said, "I mean, when the time comes, you need a woman." He felt her move away and knew that she had reached the entrance to the cave and was standing there.

"You'll need somebody." He did not add, "especially with the first one," but went on, "There's a woman in Rosier's village. Her name's Hannah Bellamy. She's rough but goodhearted."

She remained silent, thinking. He's right, he's right. But why must it be him to tell me such a thing? And he hadn't said, "Go to the hamlet and ask one of the women," which would have been in order--he must have heard about the mud throwing; news traveled on the wind.

He turned to her now and said quietly, "Well, I must be away. I drive me mother to church; she'll be waiting."

She nodded at him and came towards the table and, resting her hands on it, looked down at them and muttered under her breath, "You've been so kind, good, I ... I hate to impose on you, but could you do one more thing for me?"

"Name it."

She looked up at him, then towards the door, and said, "I'd feel better when I was out if the hairns could lock themselves in. If I could have two sockets to lay a bar across."

He narrowed his eyes at her as he asked, "Somebody been after them?"

She made a small motion with her head, then said, "There was a man came up here day afore yesterday. He offered to buy Joe."

"God's truthi Whati" "Aye, he did. He started with three guineas, then went up to five.

He's lookin' for climbin' boys. I daren't let Joe out of me sight, but he's such a live wire I never know where he is. "

Matthew took in a deep breath. There were some things that stirred him to rage. He had read in Hetherington's Poor Man's Guardian the farce of how the rich had their flues reconstructed, solely, they said, to provide working ease and comfort for the cleaning boys. A few decent men were trying to get an act through Parliament now to prevent a child under ten years old being sent up a chimney, so Parson Hedley said, and then at that age he must only be an apprentice, which meant a poor workhouse brat. Other children weren't to be employed under fourteen years, but he himself would believe that would come about when he saw it, for up till now they still collected them at five and six. Aye, and could find plenty at that age when it meant five guineas in the parents' pockets and one less to feed. At Newcastle, not a month ago, a child had died an agonizing death after dropping exhausted on to a fire. Something should be done about it, and about so many things. He was always saying this inside himself, but what could you do? If you lashed out with your hands they soon had you behind bars, or away to Botany Bay.

It was only three years ago that they hanged the Liney brothers for wounding a gamekeeper. He supposed Parson Hedley was right: in the long run education was the answer, being able to read and write. But it meant that a man had, in a way, to be extra strong-willed and put a curb on both his tongue and hands just to go on believing it.

He said grimly, "I'll fix it for you. I'll bring it over the morrow and put it on. And I'd keep Joe tight near you for the next few days it I was you, and," he added, "I'll keep me eyes open for the scraper.

It'll be pity help him if we meet up. "

Yet he knew as he spoke that if he did meet the scraper and he took him to the justice what would happen. The justice, who was Squire Tallen, would himself pay the man's fine on the side. This was being done all the time, because them in the big houses wanted to make out that without the climbing boys there was danger their mansions might be burned down.

He sometimes wondered why he listened to Parson Hedley at all, except when he was talking of literature, because half of his time he was putting over the goodness of God. And whose God? The God of the lords and the landowners, or their opponents for power, the factory owners and the mine owners. The goodness of Godi When he went out abruptly, saying no more, Cissie thought there were things about him she didn't understand. But then, how could she, for after all what did she know about him except that he was kind, and had a feeling for her; but just a feeling, for if it had been love he couldn't really think of marrying Rose Watson, in spite of the numbers depending on him. But even as she thought this she knew it was the yammering of a young girl that was no more, for with a child inside her she had become a woman.

On Christmas Eve a snow blizzard covered the fells, and during the whole of the day the light was like that of twilight and they could only see each other clearly when she put fresh wood on the fire and it blazed up. But they were warm inside and out for she had cut up the old clothes and roughly remade them. Moreover, they'd had rabbit stew, together with potatoes and mangel-wurzels, for two days now. Joe had been lucky, for he had caught a rabbit on the open fells, and they were well set for Christmas Day too. When the boys had come yesterday they had brought her a hand of pork with plenty of lean on it, a big currant loaf, and a dish of pease pudding.

As it was Christmas Eve, she had done what her da always did, see that they all had a warm wash down before they went to bed. Other times it would be cold water, or the river itself, but Christmas Eve was special.

After each one of the girls was washed, she put her back into her petticoat and straight into bed, and when Joe had donned his shirt he followed them. All in the one bed, they played and teased and quarreled until, standing at the opening of the cave, she peered through the dim light reflected from the fire and warned them, "Now stop it the lot of you's, else I'm cooldn' no dinner the morrow.

Mind." They giggled and laughed at this, knowing that the threat was without foundation; then calling, "Good-night, our Cissie. Good-night, our Cissie," they settled down.

Going to the fireplace now, she sat down and took off her boots and looked at her red chilblained feet- she had worn no stockings for months. Slowly she put them into the rapidly cooling water in which she had washed them all, and, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh, she relaxed. And so weary was she that in a moment she had fallen into a doze.

How long she had been asleep she didn't know but she was brought startlingly awake by a tapping on the door. Wide-eyed, she turned and looked towards it. Making to rise and forgetting that her feet were still in the bowl and cold now, she almost upset the water over the floor. She grabbed at a bit of hessian and roughly dried her feet; then going to the door, she asked, "Who's that?"

"Me ... Matthew."

"Oh." She took off the bar and pulled the door wide, and he stood in the entrance shaking the snow from his hat and coat.

When he was in the room she stared into his snow- rimmed eyes and said under her breath, "How did you manage to get the cart across in this?"

He went to the table and put his lantern on it, and the bag he had been carrying, saying "I couldn't use the horse. I walked."

"Walked?" It was bad enough walking over the treacherous hills and hollows of the fell land during daylight in weather like this, but at night anything could happen; you just had to slip and when they found you, you'd be stiff. She said, "You shouldn't have come out on such a night."

He turned and looked at her where she was standing barefooted on the rock floor, and he said, "And you should get into your boots, you'll get your death."

"OhI" She made a sound in her throat, which dismissed his concern.

"I'm used to it. I've ... I've been washin' them, I mean the hairns."

She went to the hearth and picked up the bowl of water and set it to one side; then, looking at him again, she said, "Can I take your coat, you'll find the benefit of it when you go out?"