At last she was able to look up. Her leg could still move, she found, and she got herself into a less cramped position. Timidly she touched her ankle; it was already swollen, but, if it was not really broken, she might try to get as far as the toll. With the help of the tangled growth on the bank, she drew herself until she sat upright, and saw that a short, broad figure was standing in front of the gate contemplating her in an attitude suggesting interest, suspicion, and the power to deal forcibly with anything. The woman--if woman it were--stood, sharply outlined against the white bars, feet planted wide apart, arms akimbo, and head at an attentive and purposeful angle. Catherine raised herself on one arm and called as loudly as she could, then, as a twinge of pain shot through her foot, she lay back once more against the bank. A minute afterwards she raised her eyes to a round, snub-nosed face within a yard of her own. It was surmounted by a man's felt hat, secured in its place by a piece of twine which was tied in a careful bow under the chin. The loops of the bow were drawn to exact evenness and the long ends hung down over a person shaped much like a beehive. The notion that she had never seen any one wearing so many clothes wandered across the girl's dazed brain. "By Pharaoh! I thought ye was market-peart!" exclaimed a voice whose depth, coming from a petticoated being, made Catherine start. "Watchin' ye, I were, to see how soon ye'd plump down again, once ye was up." "I've hurt my foot," said the girl, with a catch in her breath--"maybe it's broken." "It's the 'edge that's broken," observed the other, looking up into the gap. "Where d'ye come from?" "Talgwynne," replied Catherine, the zealous caution of her day forgotten. "Talgwynne?" shouted her companion. "There's a good many'll copy ye comin' from Talgwynne! Elijah Jones o' the Bush went by in 'is cart not an hour since, singin' like a bird, an' Mrs. Jones 'oldin' 'im so as 'e couldn't be sprawlin' over the 'orse's tail. 'E'd been out three times between this and the last turnin', so her told me. 'By Pharaoh'! says I, '_I'd_ larrup 'im'! When 'e 'eard that 'e was nigh out o' the cart an' over the dashboard again." "But I'm afeared my ankle's broken," said Catherine irrelevantly. Her face was so grey and pinched that the woman's suspicions changed to concern; she put a stout arm under her and managed to raise her till she stood upright. "Try if ye can't 'obble," said she, as they stood clinging together.