Hazel did so, and curled up to sleep in the creaking house, thoughtless as the white mice, defenceless as they, as little grateful to Vessons for his protection, and in as deep an ignorance of what the world could do to her if it chose.
Chapter 6
Early next morning, while the finch still dreamed its heavy dream and the mice were still motionless balls, Hazel was awakened by a knock at the massive oak door. She ran across and opened it a crack, peering out from amid her hair like a squirrel from autumn leaves.
Vessons stood there with a pint mug of beer, which he proffered. But
Hazel had a woman's craving for tea.
'If so be the kettle's boiling,' she said apologetically.
'Tay!' said Vessons. 'Laws! how furiously the women do rage after tay!
I s'pose it's me as is to make it?'
'If kettle's boiling.'
'Kettle! O' course kettle's boiling this hour past. Or how would the ca'ves get their meal?'
'Well, you needna shout. You'll wake 'im.'
Fright was in her eyes, strong and inexplicable to herself.