"I’m going home," she answered. "On my solemn word of honour, as a living Christian, I’m going home; and if I’m there afore them I care about--what’s the odds? Only there’s no marrying nor giving in marriage there. Won’t Rhoda be happy then! But I tell you two witty boys that I’m wickedly wronged, and the world will know it. I won’t stoop to defend myself--I’m above that; but my God will defend me, and you must defend me--both of you. ’Tis a very cruel thing to tell lies against the innocent--them as never did you harm--them as only thought and planned always to better you and bring you happiness. And wasn’t my sorrow large enough, the black sorrow of the women that never rock cradles--but she must--? .... you’ll always have a good word for me, Richard--won’t ’e?--if ’tis only for the sake of the fun we’ve had." "So we will then," said Dick. "And if anybody says anything against you, me and Sam won’t suffer it. Because you’re a jolly good sort and always have been. Never was one like you for cake--never." Samson pulled at Richard’s sleeve in the gathering gloom. "Us had better go," he whispered. "Us must go now," repeated Dicky to Margaret. "Good-bye then, and God bless you both--such little men as you be growing! Yet ’tis cruel not to give me a bite from your basket. I’m faint for want of food--God’s my judge but I am." "Can’t, for fear of catching it. You’ll do best to go back home," advised Samson. "I shall be there afore you are. ’Tis beautiful to be there first of all, to welcome all the rest as they come in one after t’other, like homing pigeons. If they only knowed ... if they only knowed how dearly I’ve loved ’em all--Rhoda, too. I tried so hard to make her a happy woman. But they will come to know at journey’s end. And she’ll know then. ’Twill all be burning light then, with nothing hid and the last heartache lifted." They took their basket and crept off. In the dark they stopped and listened. She was singing. "Never knowed her like that afore," said Richard. "I’ve a good mind to take back a biscuit for her and chance what they’ll say. She’s terrible leery[#] and terrible queer." [#] Hungry. "Us had better get home and tell about her." They pushed on for a quarter of a mile, and then Samson had another idea. "We’m nearer ’Meavy Cot’ than anywheers," he said. "Us had better go and tell David. ’Tis his job to look after Madge, I should think--him being her husband." "’I’m cruel tired," answered Richard; "and as ’tis we shall catch it pretty hot for being such a deuce of a time." "’We’ll leave the basket here, and just run down and then come back for it. And as to catching it, we shall catch it worse if we don’t tell David, and he comes to hear about it after Madge has sloped off." "You go, and I’ll bide here and keep guard over the basket," suggested Dick; but Samson would not have this. "No," he answered firmly, "I’m not going without you. You know very well us can’t do nought apart."