Mrs. Job reappeared, holding the door open to show a portion of her face—no more.
“He be’ant here,” she called.
But Susannah was not to be baffled so easily.
“Can ye give me a drink o’ water?” she inquired. “It’s dry work coming up the hill.”
The door was shut on her and she heard the pump working in the yard. Apparently the latch was not to be lifted again, for when Mrs. Job returned she came round the side of the house and handed her the desired drink.
Susannah swallowed the water, feeling as if it would choke her.
“Thank ye,” she said.
And, as the elder woman put out her hand to take the empty cup, she dashed it on the ground at their feet. The china flew into shivers on the step.
She went off along the track, leaving the other speechless, and when she had gone a little way she sat down on the turf and looked back. Mrs. Job had gone in and the chapel-goers were dispersing; black figures scattered in retreating groups towards different quarters of the landscape. Heber was with none of them and no one was going in her own direction. It seemed as if they, with Mrs. Job and the shepherd, were in the conspiracy against her. At last she rose and set out for the place at which she was to find the gig. Her eyes were dry, because she was too furious for tears.