David Herbert Lawrence

and went to get Annie a spin of toffee. Presently the lad stood in front

of her, wildly excited.

"You never said you was coming--isn't the' a lot of things?--that lion's

killed three men--I've spent my tuppence--an' look here."

He pulled from his pocket two egg-cups, with pink moss-roses on them.

"I got these from that stall where y'ave ter get them marbles in

them holes. An' I got these two in two goes-'aepenny a go-they've got

moss-roses on, look here. I wanted these."

She knew he wanted them for her.

"H'm!" she said, pleased. "They ARE pretty!"

"Shall you carry 'em, 'cause I'm frightened o' breakin' 'em?"

He was tipful of excitement now she had come, led her about the ground,

showed her everything. Then, at the peep-show, she explained the

pictures, in a sort of story, to which he listened as if spellbound. He

would not leave her. All the time he stuck close to her, bristling with

a small boy's pride of her. For no other woman looked such a lady as she

did, in her little black bonnet and her cloak. She smiled when she saw

women she knew. When she was tired she said to her son:

"Well, are you coming now, or later?"

"Are you goin' a'ready?" he cried, his face full of reproach.

"Already? It is past four, I know."

"What are you goin' a'ready for?" he lamented.

"You needn't come if you don't want," she said.

And she went slowly away with her little girl, whilst her son stood

watching her, cut to the heart to let her go, and yet unable to leave

the wakes. As she crossed the open ground in front of the Moon and Stars

she heard men shouting, and smelled the beer, and hurried a little,

thinking her husband was probably in the bar.

At about half-past six her son came home, tired now, rather pale, and

somewhat wretched. He was miserable, though he did not know it, because

he had let her go alone. Since she had gone, he had not enjoyed his

wakes.

"Has my dad been?" he asked.

"No," said the mother.

"He's helping to wait at the Moon and Stars. I seed him through that

black tin stuff wi' holes in, on the window, wi' his sleeves rolled up."

"Ha!" exclaimed the mother shortly. "He's got no money. An' he'll be

satisfied if he gets his 'lowance, whether they give him more or not."

When the light was fading, and Mrs. Morel could see no more to sew, she

rose and went to the door. Everywhere was the sound of excitement, the

restlessness of the holiday, that at last infected her. She went

out into the side garden. Women were coming home from the wakes, the

children hugging a white lamb with green legs, or a wooden horse.

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