Tom Shoesmith spread his huge fist before the fire and smiled at it.
'"Will the sea drown the Marsh?" she says. She was a Marsh woman first an' foremost.
'"No," says the liddle voice. "Sleep sound for all o' that."
'"Is the Plague comin' to the Marsh?" she says. Them was all the ills she knowed.
'"No. Sleep sound for all o' that," says Robin.
'She turned about, half mindful to go in, but the liddle voices grieved that shrill an' sorrowful she turns back, an' she cries: "If it is not a Trouble of Flesh an' Blood, what can I do?"
'The Pharisees cried out upon her from all round to fetch them a boat to sail to France, an' come back no more.
'"There's a boat on the Wall," she says, "but I can't push it down to the sea, nor sail it when 'tis there."
'"Lend us your sons," says all the Pharisees. "Give 'em Leave an' Good-will to sail it for us, Mother—O Mother!"
'"One's dumb, an' t'other's blind," she says. "But all the dearer me for that; and you'll lose them in the big sea." The voices justabout pierced through her; an' there was children's voices too. She stood out all she could, but she couldn't rightly stand against that. So she says: "If you can draw my sons for your job, I'll not hinder 'em. You can't ask no more of a Mother."