“That’s right, call for the men.” “Where are the police?” The landlord grinned. “Can’t say. I’ll take you out the back way, and through the orchard into the fields. It’s getting dark.” “But we are not going.” “I shall let the crowd in, ladies, in three minutes. That’s all I have got to say.” Eve ran upstairs and brought down the three knapsacks. “Let’s go,” she said, “we’re causing a lot of bother.” “That’s the only sensible one of the lot,” said the voice, “and what’s more, she’s worth looking at.” The crowd was growing restive and noisy. There was the sound of breaking glass. The landlord jerked a thumb in the direction of the front door. “There you are—they’re getting nasty. You come along with me!” They went under protest, with the exception of Eve, who paused at the end of the passage and spoke to the little woman with the brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll send some money for the glass. And what do we owe for the tea?” “Three shillings, miss. Thank you. And what do you do it for?” Eve laughed. “Oh, well, you see——” “I wouldn’t go along with those scrags, if I were you. It’s silly!” The little woman had pluck, for she went out to cajole the crowd, and kept it in play while her husband smuggled the suffragettes through the garden and orchard and away across the fields. They escaped unmolested, and the dusk covered their retreat. After the landlord had left them they walked about three miles and lost themselves completely and thoroughly in a net-work of by-roads. Shelter for the night became a consideration, and it was Eve who sighted a haystack in the corner of a field, and who suggested it as a refuge. They scrambled over a gate and found that the haystack had been cut into, and that there was a deep fragrant walled recess sheltered from the road. Lizzie Straker began to pull down some loose hay and spread it to make a cushion. “We must teach those savages a lesson. We ought to set fire to this in the early morning.” Eve was tired of Lizzie Straker. “I don’t think that would be sport, burning the thing that has sheltered you.” The hay was fragrant, but it could not mask the odour that had attached itself to her companions’ clothes. Eve had been spared the rotten eggs, but she was made to suffer indirectly, and persuaded to edge away into the corner of the recess. They had had to fly without their supper, and a few dry rock-cakes and some biscuits were all that they had in their knapsacks. Lizzie Straker produced a candle-end and a box of matches. It was a windless night, and by the light of the candle the two women examined each other’s scars. “We might get some of it off with the hay.” “Isn’t it disgusting! And no water to wash in.” They proceeded to rub each other down, taking turns in holding the candle. Eve had a suggestion to make. “You will have to get some new blouses at the next town. I shall have to go in and shop for you.”