‘But that’s much further than through the village, and it’s a big bundle,’ objected Marion.

‘Yes, of course it is, but I don’t want Rollo or anyone to see him with that bundle and wanting to know what he’s up to. This is a private arrangement that I made with Edward Rockwell when I was doing his walls. I said I’d let him have a bundle of big withies, fresh cut, for mending his cow-byre – nothing to do with Rollo or the Hall. They seem to think, or he does, any rate, that they own everything in the village that anybody makes. I know Rollo sent me up there to board their walls up and I’d bet Rockwell had to send some mighty cheeses to the Hall for my days’ work – that’s the law maybe, but the extras I did there – new trestles for Nancy, and a new side to a corn chest where the rats had got at it – for that they gave me that side of bacon, and I promised them these withies. It’s our affair and we don’t want Rollo or Sir Hugh to go poking their noses in.’

‘But why must I go all the way round by the forest path with the withies? You brought that side of bacon home through the village quite open.’

‘Wasn’t open, boy. I’d got my long saw-bag with me, and other tools and it fitted into that and no one any wiser. It was heavy but everyone expects a tool bag to be heavy. No, you do exactly as I say, exactly this time, mind, and don’t you mention this to anyone, do you hear? And hang around a bit in Edward’s place and if Red Mary gives you a bit of something, a hock or half a cheese – not that that was in the bargain, but she might – you bring it back here at once. Don’t go through the village, come back round the fields and give it to your mother, and no word to anyone.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And see you bring the rope back. Untie the withies when you get there. I promised them withies, not rope too.’

‘Why can’t they cut their own withies at Rockwell?’ Peterkin asked, sensing that paternal anger was fading.

‘Willows grow by water, stupid, not up on the hill at Rockwell. Are those beans ready yet?’

Marion too felt that Peter’s anger had subsided but she knew him of old, and how his sense of the seriousness of the loss of his knife would return to his mind and reinflame his anger.

She pushed a twig into the fire and when it lit, she put it to the rush in the little candle that stood on the shelf. By this glimmer she peered into the pot, scooped out a bean with the handle of the ladle and tried it. It was about soft enough to eat. She pulled the wooden bowls towards her from the shelf and ladled the beans and leeks into them. There were only two spoons and usually she waited while her husband and son ate, and then she fed herself, and Alice, with whichever spoon was finished with first. Now, as an indication to Peterkin that he was still in disgrace, she made him wait. She realized that she had forgotten Alice, who had been dozing beside her on the floor, leaning her head sideways against the log. By the feeble light Marion saw that her mouth was open and two glistening streams of mucus with crusty edges descended from her tiny nostrils.