Mrs. Wood watched her a minute to see that she was safe, and then she turned her back on the loiterers and went on towards the post-office.
One lad called out a greeting to her and asked who her mate was with, but she paid no heed though the others laughed. She shook her spare shoulders as she walked with a way that she had, and drew her spare little black jacket around her and held her little head, that had once been so pretty, well up, so that the thin nose was tilted, sniffing the cool air, and any one who knew her could have told that the next person she met would “catch it.”
The loiterers knew it, and laughed as they saw who the next person would be.
For it was her own man who came lounging across the churchyard. He was a great, hulking fellow who looked as though he could have taken the frail little body in one great hand and crushed it to death, yet the woman showed no fear of him. She just stood where she was and waited for him to reach the gate and come through to her, and though the laughter went on at the corner by which he must pass, and she knew very well what the joke was, she was nowise daunted nor even seemed to notice it.
And as the man came closer one could see that on the top of that great body there was a handsome, gipsy face with coal-black beard and hair curling crisply, and dark eyes that might have flashed if they would, but that were soft and velvety as those of his own little daughter, while the mouth smiled almost tremulously, showing a row of even, white teeth.
“Why ain’t ye at work?” said the wife as the Adonis came up.
“’Ere, Jerry, I wants a word with ye,” called one of the young fellows on the wall.
“You budge if you dare,” said the little woman, setting her lips together.
“Don’t ye stop to be bullied, man,” laughed another one yonder. “What be the good of a good time if ye pay for it next day this way?”
But the Adonis only smiled a charming smile, looking from one to the other.