"Your children are worth more'n your hat, I reck'n," he said. "Coom on!—Coom on!—No time to be lost!"
And in a moment she was walking briskly at his side down the hill up which he had just come.
The strength, the resolution, the certainty of her companion swept all her clouds away and renewed her faith.
She told him of the notice she had received.
"All the better," he said. "Another trump for us to play. Don't you worrit. The Labour Party in Parliament's disappointed all its supporters so far, but it's going to justify itself at last. One thing. They can't trample on us this time, the Fats canna. We're too well organised."
They walked down the hill together.
At the stile opposite the Drill Hall where six months before she had rescued Ernie, drenched and dripping, from the police, they turned off into Saffrons Croft in the direction of the Town Hall.
Joe, as he trod the grass beneath his feet, became sombre, silent. The woman sweeping along at his side, her shawl about her head, felt his change of mood. The Other was coming to the top again—the One she feared. She was right. The Other it was who spoke surlily and growling, out of his deeps, like the voice of a yard-dog from his kennel.
"Well, what's it going to be?"
Her heart galloped but she met him gaily.