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Then
she
sank
on
the
ale-house
bench
and
tried
to
get
that
breath
of
relief
after
running
which
people
call
the
'
second
wind
.
'
But
she
felt
as
though
she
would
never
breathe
again
.
Bill
the
Bargee
rose
slowly
and
heavily
.
But
his
wife
was
a
hundred
yards
up
the
road
before
he
had
quite
understood
what
was
the
matter
.
Phyllis
,
shivering
by
the
canal
side
,
had
hardly
heard
the
quick
approaching
feet
before
the
woman
had
flung
herself
on
the
railing
,
rolled
down
the
bank
,
and
snatched
the
baby
from
her
.
"
Do
n't
,
"
said
Phyllis
,
reproachfully
;
"
I
'd
just
got
him
to
sleep
.
"
*
*
*
Bill
came
up
later
talking
in
a
language
with
which
the
children
were
wholly
unfamiliar
.
He
leaped
on
to
the
barge
and
dipped
up
pails
of
water
.
Peter
helped
him
and
they
put
out
the
fire
.
Phyllis
,
the
bargewoman
,
and
the
baby
--
and
presently
Bobbie
,
too
--
cuddled
together
in
a
heap
on
the
bank
.
"
Lord
help
me
,
if
it
was
me
left
anything
as
could
catch
alight
,
"
said
the
woman
again
and
again
.
But
it
was
n't
she
.
It
was
Bill
the
Bargeman
,
who
had
knocked
his
pipe
out
and
the
red
ash
had
fallen
on
the
hearth-rug
and
smouldered
there
and
at
last
broken
into
flame
.
Though
a
stern
man
he
was
just
.
He
did
not
blame
his
wife
for
what
was
his
own
fault
,
as
many
bargemen
,
and
other
men
,
too
,
would
have
done
.
*
*
*
Mother
was
half
wild
with
anxiety
when
at
last
the
three
children
turned
up
at
Three
Chimneys
,
all
very
wet
by
now
,
for
Peter
seemed
to
have
come
off
on
the
others
.
But
when
she
had
disentangled
the
truth
of
what
had
happened
from
their
mixed
and
incoherent
narrative
,
she
owned
that
they
had
done
quite
right
,
and
could
not
possibly
have
done
otherwise
.
