She went out into the road again and toiled on up the curve, crossed the slide where the logs came shooting down, moved slowly up the straight, nearly level piece. More buildings came into view, to the right a large rough barn, to the left a watering trough and a long picket fence fronting a cleared space with a big hemlock house set in the middle and a spring-house a stone’s throw away. Farther ahead to the right a little shack squatted on the flat side of the road and near it a woman’s figure in bright blue was tying a bony horse to a stake. The woman walked past the watering trough and approached the figure. She saw a stringy woman in a tight blue sateen dress, face the color of old leather, a great bang of hair falling down into faded blue, piglike eyes, a little knot of hair in the back twisting tightly away from the cordy neck. A frowsy child came out of the shack. “Ma, ma,” it cried like a little animal. A wailing arose from within the house, a sound of violent rocking. “Not here,” said the woman in a cold fear to herself. “Will you give me a drink?” Automatically the words came. “I sure will. We got the best drinkin’ water anywheres around. Liz!” she shouted into the house. An ungainly elder girl appeared in the dark hole of the doorway. “Git some fresh water from the spring!” The girl stood sullen a moment, then disappeared. She came out with a small tin pail dangling against her dirty legs. “Git a move on you. Seems like I can’t make her do a thing.” Sullen, the girl moved across the road, swung open a gate, and took the path to the spring-house. “Who lives there?” asked the woman. Hope burned low in her. “That’s Bennet’s. He’s the lumber boss. He don’t take no boarders neither. They got too many children for that, five boys an’ two girls, an’ Mrs. Bennet’s pertickiler. I allays scrub the floors for her. See this dress? I saved the money she give me an’ got it last week come Sataday.” A great despair came over the woman. She made a couple of steps forward. “Where air you goin’? Air you all alone?” Anything to put an end to questioning. She spoke at random, strangely in accord with the custom of the forest dwellers. “My husband’s coming along behind with our goods. We’re moving.” “Oh, movin’? What’s your husband do? Gonno work in the mill or in the woods?” “He’s going into the mill.” “You ain’t gonno walk all the way to Goff’s, air you?” The woman felt fright. “How far is it?” Her Sin was threatening her again. “Must be a matter of five miles.” “Is that the nearest mill?” She could never walk that far.