Hazel did so, and curled up to sleep in the creaking house, thoughtless as the white mice, defenceless as they, as little grateful to Vessons for his protection, and in as deep an ignorance of what the world could do to her if it chose. Chapter 6 Early next morning, while the finch still dreamed its heavy dream and the mice were still motionless balls, Hazel was awakened by a knock at the massive oak door. She ran across and opened it a crack, peering out from amid her hair like a squirrel from autumn leaves. Vessons stood there with a pint mug of beer, which he proffered. But Hazel had a woman's craving for tea. 'If so be the kettle's boiling,' she said apologetically. 'Tay!' said Vessons. 'Laws! how furiously the women do rage after tay! I s'pose it's me as is to make it?' 'If kettle's boiling.' 'Kettle! O' course kettle's boiling this hour past. Or how would the ca'ves get their meal?' 'Well, you needna shout. You'll wake 'im.' Fright was in her eyes, strong and inexplicable to herself. 'I mun go!' she whispered. 'Ah! You go,' said Vessons, glad that for once duty and inclination went hand in hand. 'I'll send you,' he added. 'Where d'yer live?' She hesitated. 'You needna be frit to tell _me,_' said Vessons. 'I'm six-and-sixty, and you're no more to me'--he surveyed her flushing face contemplatively--'than the wold useless cat,' he concluded. Hazel frowned; but she wanted a promise from Vessons, so she made no retort. 'You wunna tell 'im?' she pleaded. ''Im? Never will I! Wild 'orses shanna drag it from me, nor yet blood 'orses, nor 'unters, nor cart-'orses, nor Suffolk punches!' Vessons waxed eloquent, for again righteousness and desire coincided. He did not want a woman at Undern. 'Well,' said Hazel, whispering through the crack, 'I lives at the Callow.' 'What! that lost and forgotten place t'other side the Mountain?' 'Ah! But it inna lost and forgotten; it's better'n this. We've got bees.' 'So've I got bees.' 'And a music.' 'Music? What's a music? You canna eat it.' 'And my dad makes coffins.' 'Does 'e, now?' said Vessons, interested at last. Then he bethought him of the credit of Undern. 'But you anna got a mulberry-tree,' he said triumphantly. 'Now then! _I_ 'ave!' He creaked downstairs. In a few moments Hazel also went down, and drank her tea by the red fire in the kitchen, watching the frost-flowers being softly effaced from the window as if someone rubbed them away with a sponge. Snow like sifted sugar was heaped on the sill, and the yard and outbuildings and fields, the pools and the ricks, all had the dim radiance of antimony. 'Where be the road?' asked Hazel, standing on the door-step and feeling rather lost. 'How'll I find it?' 'You wunna find it.' 'Oh, but I mun!' 'D'you think Andrew Vessons'll let an 'ooman trapse in the snow when he's got good horses in stable?' queried Vessons grandly. 'I'll drive yer.' 'I'm much obleeged, I'm sure,' said Hazel. 'But wunna he know?'