As the day went on, and horse after horse was led or ridden out for the benefit of the farmers, old Moorhouse's stiff limbs were growing uneasy on his log and he summoned his niece and began to move homeward. Susannah was obliged to go with him, but she determined to return when she had left him within safe distance of his own door; for she had spread his midday bread and cheese on the kitchen table before leaving the house, and there were possibilities waiting for her in Talgwynne of which she had not dreamed as she set out for the fair. By hook or by crook, she meant to have a word with Saunders. Her uncle moved slowly, and the crowd made it so difficult for them to get on, that they were forced to take the most devious way to avoid it. Though she did not enter the house, it was almost an hour before she found herself in the town and once more in the middle of the throng. There was no sign of Saunders, and she guessed that he was still on the road; but she stayed where she was, keeping as much as possible in the background and shunning those acquaintances whom she saw. She told herself that he must return to fetch his horse, for she knew, by his splashed leggings and the whip under his arm, that he had ridden to the fair. There would be a better chance of attracting his attention quietly in the hurly-burly than on the open road. She was standing in the shadow of a doorway when at last she saw him and observed a greater geniality on his face. He was flushed, and his hat sat at a more cheerful angle; and though his assured and steady manner of threading the maze of people held him above all suspicion of being drunk, Susannah suspected that he had been bolstering his fallen spirits in the popular way. She edged again into the moving mass of humanity and soon found herself close to him. He seemed to be searching for some person, for it was nearly impossible to catch his eye. She plucked him boldly by the sleeve. Saunders turned round at once. She was as completely unknown to him as he had been to her a few hours ago; but, thanks to a couple of visits to the Hand of Friendship, his downhearted uneasiness had given way to a more venturesome outlook on the world. Though Susannah wore a plain black jacket and an unsuggestive hat, both of which had seen better days, there was in her appearance that demand for attention from the other sex which certain women carry with them wherever they go and however they are clothed. Her direct eyes challenged those of Charles, which now had a roving expression absent from them in the morning. "Well, my dear," said he easily. "What'll you give me for a bit o' news?" asked Susannah, answering his look in kind. Her hand was still on his arm and she gave it a little shake. Saunders smiled. He did not quite know what to say in reply, nor what turn he wished the situation to take; it seemed to have several possibilities.