They were given heartily, but this was merely a prelude—a preliminary trial of vocal power before the real event of the morning.
The holiday makers paused, awaiting the next command. Small boys drew in their breath ready for the next outburst of sound. Everyone looked at the schoolmaster.
"Drive on," called Coast.
With a cracking of whips and rattling of harness the waggons moved forward.
For the first time in ten years no cheers had been given for Mr. and Mrs. Robson of Anderby Wold.
Mary stood and watched them pass. They looked at her curiously with vague bewilderment. She stared in front of her, smiling mechanically. Only when the last waggon had rounded the bend in the road the tension of her attitude relaxed. She walked quickly down the hill.
On her way through the village she encountered a dark figure hurrying up the street. She knew who it was. She had heard from several people that for a week or more a towns-fellow called Hunting had been organizing t' union, that the Flying Fox had become the centre of a strange new business in Anderby, and that Coast was the chief lieutenant of the leader of industry.
Six months ago she would have laughed at it all, declaring that such a scheme was unpractical. Or that a union was very nice and would do no one any harm, and she was sure the men might join if they liked, for it wouldn't lead to anything.
Now she regarded with sick apprehension the self-confident tilt of Hunting's hat and the purposeful energy of his stride.
She raised her head defiantly.