THE ENGLISH REVIEW
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path hung torn and scattered groups of dishevelled pink
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chrysanthemums, like pink cloths hung on bushes. A woman
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came bending out of the felt-covered fowl-house half-way down
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the garden. She closed and padlocked the door, then drew
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herself erect, having brushed some bits from her white apron.6
She was a tall woman of imperious mien, handsome, with
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definite black eyebrows. Her smooth black hair was parted
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exactly. For a few moments she stood steadily watching the
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miners as they passed along the railway : then she turned
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towards the brook course. There was no quickness, no lightness
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in her movements. Her face was calm and proud with defiance,
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her mouth was closed with disillusionment. After a moment
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she called :14
" John ! " There was no answer. She waited, and then
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said distinctly :16
"Where are you ?"17
"Here !" replied a child's sulky voice from among the
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bushes. The woman looked piercingly through the dusk. "Are
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you at that brook ?" she asked sternly. For answer the child
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showed himself before the raspberry-canes that rose like whips.
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He was a small, sturdy boy of five. He stood quite still,
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defiantly.23
"Oh !" said the mother, conciliated. "I thought you were
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down at that wet brook--and you remember what I told
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you ---- "26
The boy did not move or answer.27
"Come, come on in," she said more gently, "it's getting
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dark and cold--and listen, there's your grandfather's engine
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coming down the line !"30
The lad advanced slowly, with resentful, taciturn move-
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ment. He was dressed in trousers and waistcoat of cloth
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that was too thick and hard for the size of the garments. They
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were evidently cut down from a man's clothes.34
As they went slowly towards the house he tore at the ragged
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wisps of pale chrysanthemums and dropped the petals in
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handfuls along the path.37
"Don't do that--it does look nasty," said his mother. He
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refrained, and she, suddenly pitiful, broke off a twig with three
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or four wan flowers and held them against her face. When
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mother and son reached the yard her hand hesitated, and
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instead of throwing the flower away, she pushed it in her apron-
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band. The pair stood at the foot of the three steps looking
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across the bay of lines at the passing home of the miners. The
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trundle of the small train was imminent. Suddenly the
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