THREE:Benjamin occasionally stole afternoons in Rye��if he was discovered there would be furious scenes with Reuben, but he had learned cunning, and also, being of a sporting nature, was willing to take risks. Some friends of his were building a ship down at the Camber. Week by week he watched her grow, watched the good timber fill in her ribs, watched her decks spread themselves, watched her masts rise, and at last smelt the good smell of her tarring. She was a three-masted schooner, and her first voyage was to be to the Canaries. Her builders drank many a toast with Backfield's[Pg 270] truant son, who gladly risked his father's blows to be with them in their work and hearty boozing. He forgot the farmyard smells he hated in the shipyard smells he loved, and his slavery in oaths and rum��with buckets of tar and coils of rope, and rousing chanties and stories of strange ships.

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THREE:"May be not, Margaret; but yet that lady who sat at her side, looked not so high as the baroness. There was more sweetness in her smile, and gentleness in her voice."

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THREE:At last the crisis came��through George, the youngest, least-considered son at Odiam. He had always been a weakling, as if Naomi had passed into his body her own[Pg 221] passionate distaste for life. Also, as is common with epileptic children, his intellect was not very bright. It had been the habit to spare him, even Reuben had done so within reason. But he should not really have worked at all, or only in strict moderation��certainly he should not have been sent out that October evening to dig up the bracken roots on the new land. Tilly expostulated��"Anyhow he didn't ought to work alone "��but Reuben was angry with the boy, whom he had caught loafing once or twice that day, and roughly packed him off.Chapter 9

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THREE:"Surely," said Margaret, trembling from head to foot��"surely it cannot be����"The Tories."

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THREE:"Well, I must be going. It's done me good, our talk. Not that you've said anything particular comforting, but then you never did. It's good anyway to sit wud a woman wot's not lik a fat stroked cat��not a thin kicked one, nuther," he added viciously, remembering Caro. "You're lik a liddle tit-bird, Alice. I love you. But I'm not sorry I didn't marry you, for you'd have busted me same as Rose, only in a different way.""Odiam!" shrieked Albert.

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