"Nay, now, Sarah, what’s the sense o’ getting mad? I’m real sorry about your eyes, but you’d ha’ done better to tell me right off. As for saying good day and such-like so mighty grand, you know as well as me we’re looking to see you at Blindbeck this afternoon." She paused a moment, and then her voice rose on an insolent note. "Ay, and you know well enough what you’re coming for an’ all!" "Nay, then, I don’t." Sarah seemed actually to grow in height. She looked down at her quietly. "Nay, I don’t." "That’s a lie, if I say it to all Witham!" Eliza cried in furious tones. Battle was really joined now, and her voice, strident and loud, carried into and disturbed even the street. Those near turned about openly to listen, or listened eagerly without turning. The man in the adjoining room got up and came to the door. May stood poised for flight, looking from one to the other of the warriors with dismay. "You’re leaving Sandholes, aren’t you?" Eliza asked, exactly as if she were addressing somebody over the road,--"leaving because you’re broke! You’re coming to Blindbeck to beg of Blindbeck, just as you’ve begged of us before. Simon told Will, if you want to know, and Will told me, and every farmer at market’ll be taking it home by now...." There was a murmur of discomfort and disapproval all over the room, and then somebody in a corner whispered something and laughed. May roused herself and pushed her way past Eliza with burning cheeks; but Sarah stood perfectly still, looking down at the blurred presence sneering from her chair. "Ay, we’re quitting right enough," she answered her in a passionless voice. "We’re finished, Simon and me, and there’s nowt for it but to give up. But I’ve gitten one thing to be thankful for, when everything’s said and done ... I’m that bad wi’ my eyes I can’t rightly see your face...." The person who had laughed before laughed again, and faint titters broke out on every side. Sarah, however, did not seem to hear. She lifted a thread-gloved hand and pointed at Eliza’s skirts. "Happen you’ll shift yon gown o’ yours, Eliza Thornthet?" she added, coolly. "I’ve a deal o’ dirt on my shoes as I reckon you won’t want." The laughter Was unrestrained now, and Eliza flushed angrily as she dragged her skirts reluctantly out of the way. From the corner of a raging eye she observed the elaborate care with which Sarah went by.