that being consolidated in this undisturbed place they would say and do things that would hurt her so much that they would hurt her child.  There was nothing for it but to leave the cover of the wood and cross the waste space and walk down Roothing High Street and go back to Yaverland’s End by the lane.  Her mood of forgiving love for the village, which the cricket-ball had interrupted, had been so real that she felt as if a pact had been established between it and her, and she was quite sure that she would be safe from the boys there.  If they were tiresome and followed her, no doubt somebody like Mrs. Hobbs, who kept the general stores, would take her in and let her rest till it was dark, and then see her home.  She turned round and walked out of the wood, and because she could not, in her heavy-footed state, trample through the undergrowth, she had to follow the path that led her to within a yard or two of George Postgate.  She could see from the workings of his large face that he was forming some plan of action.  And sure enough, when she passed him, he cried out “Dirty Marion!” and twitched the sun-bonnet from her head.  The sudden movement made her start violently, for though she had not known what fear was until she conceived, she now knew a panic-terror at anything that threatened her body.  That made the boys shout with laughter and call to their friends to hurry up and see the fun.

The sunshine that beat down on the unshaded field was hot on her bare head.  It would be awkward too, going into the village hatless and with ruffled hair.  But she must not be angry with George Postgate, for indeed the incident had been to him only a means of gaining that popularity with the fellows that his poor stupid soul so longed for and had so often been refused, and he could not know that the fright would make her feel so ill.  Since the first agonising months of her pregnancy, when nausea and faintness had pervaded her days, she had never felt as ill as this.  A sweat had broken out on her face and her hands; she had to pant for breath and her limbs staggered under her.  But she would be all right if she could sit down for one moment.  There was a hawthorn stump a little way off, and to this she made her way, but as she sunk down on it a clod of earth struck her in the shoulder.  She spun round, and another broke on her face.  Grit filled her mouth, which was open with amazement.  She had been deaf with physical distress, so she had not heard that the boys had gathered together on the wood’s edge and were now marching after her in a shouting crowd.  Something in her attitude when she turned on them made them fall dumb and stock-still for a moment.  But as a gust of wind ruffled her hair and blew her skirts about her body a roar of laughter went up from them, and earth and dry dung flew through the air at her.