It was an early fair and took place in the month of September, so they had good weather for their exploit. While they were resting, rather weary, yet trying still to think it was pleasant, they heard strange voices among the trees. It sounded as if a man and a woman were quarrelling, and something about the sound made the children afraid. The man’s voice rose very roughly above that of the woman’s, and she seemed to be in pain. “Not if you strike me dead; I won’t do it, Bill, not if you strike me dead.” “Then take that, and cease your misery, and leave your betters to do the work they’ve planned.” And there followed the sound of blows and a clamour, half a strangled sob or cry, then a thud as if some one fell heavily. And silence for a time. And then there was the sound of footsteps slowly withdrawing through the dead leaves of the wood. There was something dreadful to the children in this, something very frightening. Was somebody really lying there, quite close to them and quite still; somebody who had been talking and moving about just now, and who now made no movement whatever? What had happened? Had that dreadful man gone away? O, should Robin go and see? “No, no,” cried Mousie, hiding her face close to him, “no, no; let us go home, let us go home.” But Robin was made of sterner stuff, and Mousie’s fear only served to strengthen him. He found many brave things to say to her. Very soon he was upright and stealing through the trees, peeping and peering as he crept forward. Then he saw the figure of a woman lying quite still upon the ground. She had long black hair, and brown clothes on, and her face looked as if she were asleep. It was so white and pretty that Robin didn’t feel afraid of her, so he went quite near to look. And he touched the hand and thought how cold it was, and Mousie soon came creeping up. Then the best thought that could have come to Robin, made him say: “I think she’s only asleep, because I saw her eyelids move. Run to the brook Mousie, and dip your hands in and bring as much water as you can.” And together they brought water, and patted the white face with it, and Robin laid his wet hands on the pale lips. And after a time the woman opened her eyes, very languidly and raised her head, and looked about her. And when she saw the children her eyes asked the questions her lips could hardly frame. “You’re better now,” said Robin. And, Mousie, said, “I didn’t think dead people could come alive.” But the woman said: “Where’s Jasper?” “If you mean the man who was, who was ... talking to you,” said Robin politely, “he went away into the wood ... afterwards.” “That was Bill, that was,” murmured the girl, “I remember now.” A sudden light came into her dark eyes, making her look scared and hunted. “O, ’twasn’t to serve men like Bill that I come into the world, with his foul tongue, and his black heart, and his lies and cruelty and wickedness. ’Twasn’t to serve men like Bill, I tell yer! O my Gawd, why didn’t I die?”