"Shall I leave the key to you, Mr. Coast?" he queried.
"Please."
Then he, too, went. The schoolmaster sat alone. "I don't suppose we shall have much more bother...." Bother about the playing field, bother about the brassocking holiday, bother about taking Jack Greenwood from school before his time, bother about the strike.... All conveniently settled, with the least possible discomfort to herself, Mary Robson. How nice. How truly obliging of the Almighty to arrange the world so manifestly for her advantage!
"Oh, damn the woman! Damn her, damn her!"
There seemed nothing more to say.
At four o'clock the following Saturday afternoon, Coast was walking up the village street on his way to visit old Mrs. Armstrong. He had finally been persuaded by the parish council to approach her about her field in the village, which Mrs. Robson had suggested might serve as a playing ground for the school children. The road was full of life that afternoon. Continually bicycle bells chimed and tinkled, and couples rode past to Hardrascliffe. The Saturday after Harvest was always a red letter day at Anderby. Even Fred Stephens, who was due to return to work with his comrades on Monday, had ingratiated himself sufficiently with the Robsons' Violet to escort her, with sheepish humility and the bait of an invitation to the Pictures, along the Hardrascliffe road.
Coast had passed the post office and the bridge, and turned into the street of straggling houses that led to the Wold Farm. A short stocky figure slouched slowly ahead of him. He recognized Eli Waite shabbier and more disconsolate than ever, walking with drooping head, an empty pipe between his teeth.
Moved by a sudden impulse to talk to some one more out of love with life than himself, Coast hailed him with an unusually genial "Good afternoon, Waite."
Geniality was hardly Coast's typical manner, so Waite turned round with some surprise. He regarded the schoolmaster as a man of good sense and perspicacity who had played a worthy part in the recent industrial crisis. The nod he gave was less sulky than usual.