The situation baffled her. Money they must have, and she was quick to rack her brains for some way in which it could be got. An inspiration came to her. ‘You didn’t ought to work with your eye in that state,’ she said. ‘Better go down to the doctor’s and put yourself on the box. You’ve been paying into that club long enough and not had a penny out of it.’ ‘Club?’ said Abner. ‘I don’t sponge on no clubs! I’m going down to the pit to see the doggy. I reckon he’ll find me a job underground.’ He lit his pipe and went out into the frosty morning. A delayed impulse made her want to give him his knitted neck-scarf, but it came too late. She didn’t know what to make of it. In a single night all the pleasant, ordered happiness of the life that they had been leading since John Fellows’s accident had been overwhelmed. She felt it unreasonable, incredible, that this should have happened. She could not even solace herself with the care of her baby, who was now beginning to babble and to stagger with uncertain steps from chair to chair. She found herself wishing, for a moment, that there wasn’t a kid to worry about, and was as quickly bitten with remorse, for she knew that the baby was her most precious possession on earth. She could settle down to nothing. The foundations of her routine life had been dissolved. She had not even money enough to meet the bills that she always paid on Mondays. But the thought of money was nothing to her compared with her anxiety as to Abner’s attitude toward herself. She found a little comfort in thinking that he had not yet recovered from the effects of his debauch, and that when he returned in the evening they might take up their relation at the point where it had been so abruptly convulsed. On this her whole happiness depended. Abner’s visit to the pit was satisfactory in so far as it procured him without the least difficulty a job underground. He was a trained miner, and in those days, when the output of the mine had been diminished by a series of accidents and a growing tendency to work short time, any new hand was welcome at Mawne pit. When he came back in the evening he reassured Alice that even if they had to go easy in the matter of expenditure they need not starve in the interval before John Fellows returned to double their income. To meet the present emergency he handed her the sovereign that he had received from the football club. ‘If that sod Hudson had had his way you’d have had ten,’ he said enigmatically. ‘You’d better send a nipper to the Oak with my boots and football gear,’ he told her. ‘I’ve done with Mawne United.’