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“
Well
,
”
she
said
at
last
,
“
I
shall
soon
be
going
in
,
and
then
I
will
give
you
the
crooked
sixpence
,
and
let
you
go
home
.
”
“
Thank
’
ee
,
Miss
Eustacia
,
”
said
the
tired
stoker
,
breathing
more
easily
.
And
Eustacia
again
strolled
away
from
the
fire
,
but
this
time
not
towards
Rainbarrow
.
She
skirted
the
bank
and
went
round
to
the
wicket
before
the
house
,
where
she
stood
motionless
,
looking
at
the
scene
.
Fifty
yards
off
rose
the
corner
of
the
two
converging
banks
,
with
the
fire
upon
it
;
within
the
bank
,
lifting
up
to
the
fire
one
stick
at
a
time
,
just
as
before
,
the
figure
of
the
little
child
.
She
idly
watched
him
as
he
occasionally
climbed
up
in
the
nook
of
the
bank
and
stood
beside
the
brands
.
The
wind
blew
the
smoke
,
and
the
child
’
s
hair
,
and
the
corner
of
his
pinafore
,
all
in
the
same
direction
;
the
breeze
died
,
and
the
pinafore
and
hair
lay
still
,
and
the
smoke
went
up
straight
.
While
Eustacia
looked
on
from
this
distance
the
boy
’
s
form
visibly
started
—
he
slid
down
the
bank
and
ran
across
towards
the
white
gate
.
“
Well
?
”
said
Eustacia
.
“
A
hopfrog
have
jumped
into
the
pond
.
Yes
,
I
heard
’
en
!
”
“
Then
it
is
going
to
rain
,
and
you
had
better
go
home
.
You
will
not
be
afraid
?
”
She
spoke
hurriedly
,
as
if
her
heart
had
leapt
into
her
throat
at
the
boy
’
s
words
.
“
No
,
because
I
shall
hae
the
crooked
sixpence
.
”
“
Yes
,
here
it
is
.
Now
run
as
fast
as
you
can
—
not
that
way
—
through
the
garden
here
.
No
other
boy
in
the
heath
has
had
such
a
bonfire
as
yours
.
”
