Лето
XVII
Shewasfaintwithhunger,andhadnothingleftinhersatchel;butonthetableshesawthehalfofastaleloaf.NodoubtitwastoserveasthebreakfastofoldMrs.Hyattandthechildren;butCharitydidnotcare;shehadherownbabytothinkof.Shebrokeoffapieceofthebreadandateitgreedily;thenherglancefellonthethinfacesofthesleepingchildren,andfilledwithcompunctionsherummagedinhersatchelforsomethingwithwhichtopayforwhatshehadtaken.ShefoundoneoftheprettychemisesthatAllyhadmadeforher,withablueribbonrunthroughitsedging.Itwasoneofthedaintythingsonwhichshehadsquanderedhersavings,andasshelookedatitthebloodrushedtoherforehead.Shelaidthechemiseonthetable,andstealingacrossthefloorliftedthelatchandwentout....
ThemorningwasicycoldandapalesunwasjustrisingabovetheeasternshoulderoftheMountain.Thehousesscatteredonthehillsidelaycoldandsmokelessunderthesun-fleckedclouds,andnotahumanbeingwasinsight.Charitypausedonthethresholdandtriedtodiscovertheroadbywhichshehadcomethenightbefore.AcrossthefieldsurroundingMrs.Hyatt’sshantyshesawthetumble-downhouseinwhichshesupposedthefuneralservicehadtakenplace.Thetrailranacrossthegroundbetweenthetwohousesanddisappearedinthepine-woodontheflankoftheMountain;andalittlewaytotheright,underawind-beatenthorn,amoundoffreshearthmadeadarkspotonthefawn-colouredstubble.Charitywalkedacrossthefieldtotheground.
