“I must go or they’ll imagine I’m lost. I’ll let you know tomorrow if I may. Will I find you at the farm?”

“I’ll be about, one of my men will tell you.”

He watched her go, and as he turned away he began to whistle ‘The Poacher’s Song’, a gay, carefree whistling.

His shepherd was passing up the lane on the far side of the copse. “That’s master,” he thought. “Haven’t heard him so jovial since missus went.”

Janet, hurrying across the field, felt in her pockets and took out her powder-puff. “Gosh!” she murmured, seeing her face. “He must think we run to extremes in our family. Must tidy up; don’t want to come in looking like a wet Sunday.” Then a thought came to her which startled her. She paused, her powder-puff halfway to her nose. “How queer! How very queer! I don’t’ mind the idea of stopping half as much as I did. I suppose I’ve cried it out of me!”

Section 3

The Brains sat round the supper-table. Janet had cleaned and powdered her face, and had managed to get most of the signs of tears away. Maggie beamed as she carried in three boiled eggs.

“I wouldn’t do anything to them, dear,” she told Janet, “except boil them. A nice fresh egg will be a treat to you.”

Janet took a piece of bread.

“I met your farmer while I was out.”

Sheila flushed and her eyes slid round to Janet.

“What did he say?”

Both Maggie and Janet were surprised by a note of truculence in her voice. Janet looked at her squarely.

“He said you’d definitely promised to teach his kid, Iris. Did you?”

“No, I told you I didn’t. He was kind when we moved, and I was sorry for him, and . . .”

“I expect you more or less did,” Janet said resignedly, “but you don’t mean to, do you?”

“Well, I would if I could, but I don’t like children and—”

“Come on, do you mean to, or don’t you?”

Sheila jabbed at her egg with her spoon.

“I wish you wouldn’t bully. What’s it got to do with you, anyway!”

“Only that if you’re not going to take on the job, I am.”

Maggie’s teacup clattered into its saucer. There was a ring of happiness in her voice which warmed Janet’s heart.

“You’re not, Jan!”

Janet nodded at her mother.

“Yes, I am. I told you that you were too thin, you bad old woman. I’m looking for some job near here where I can keep an eye on you. Well, Sheila, do you mean to take the job or don’t you?”

Sheila wriggled.

“I’m not sure. I can’t be rushed.”

“Don’t talk nonsense about being rushed,” said Maggie. “You had the job offered you last autumn, and now it’s June.”