Solemnly, she agreed.

They drew near the field gate.

*Does Fidget like rabbiting?'

*I don't let her run wild; she needs a concentrating mind to work the sheep.'

*Twiss hates it when Wakelin takes him rabbiting. I helped mammy make a rabbit and onion pie. Wakelin says the man at the manor house, with caterpillars on his head, don't like him. Wakelin wants heaps of money.'

*Well, he's landed on his feet; he's doing fine at the finishing shop. I know our Martha's proud of him.'

Fidget drove in the sheep.

*Best get *ee home afore the clouds start emptying again.'

Crossing Miller's Bridge they saw Martha stomping towards them.

*Now we're in for it, One-Quart.'

*Want to know where I've been?' Martha demanded. *All the way to the embankment, searching for you. Look at my frock, the hem's soaked!'

*She followed the sheep,' her father apologised. He tweaked Eppie's ear. *You'd best not run off like that ag'in. *T'ain't right ya should cause yer ma such fretting.'

*I'm not angry,' Martha repented, seeing Eppie's sorrowful face, *though I see I'll have to pin you to my apron like the glove-makers do to their children.'

*No, Mammy!'

*I'm only speaking in jest.'

Hearing laughter, Samuel said, *Seems there's a mite o' merrymaking in your yard.'

Eppie dashed into the garden. Scrambling onto her wooden block, she peered into the pigsty. Bubbles surfaced from the puddle into which the Tamworths' snouts were sunk. *Why ain't Pease and Pudding walking? Is they dying?'

*Far from it,' Gillow answered. *They're stewed.'

*Can't you smell the beer?' Claire asked.

Contented snorts and grunts came from the prostrate creatures.

*It was the bucket of barley and pea-meal that you gave them, wasn't it?' Martha asked.

Eppie stared at her, nonplussed.

Martha nipped into the wring-shed. *It's still here. You've fed them liquid ale must!'

Chuckling, Henry made to leave. Though only in his middle years, he had a distinctive crop of shoulder-length white hair. *See you later at The Duck for a game of skittles, Gillow.'

Claire prodded her husband in the back. *Aren't you forgetting something?'

*Huh?'

*Like the reason we dropped by in the first place?'

*Malstowe's expanding,' Henry said. *More labourers are journeying to the town in search of work. That means more wagons on the lanes.'

*What's that got to do with us?' Martha asked, mystified.

*Sometimes you make me want to rip out my hair, Henry,' said his wife. *You have such a round-about way of telling folk things.' Claire turned to her sister. *We all get tired of the lane, don't we? The potholes are frequently clotted with mud and rainwater and easy to trip over.'

*And into.' Martha grinned knowingly at Eppie.

*The long and short of it is, our lane needs improving,' Henry said. *Prisoners from Malstowe jail are being drafted in to lay an improved surface.'

*Prisoners!' Martha exclaimed.

*Don't worry, they'll be well guarded,' Claire said reassuringly.

*Who's paying for it?' Samuel asked. *That's what I'd like to know. The likes of us can't.'

*It'll be paid for by members of the Turnpike Trust,' Henry answered. *Those who subscribe the capital to the Trust are predominantly major landowners along the route. Du Quesne's putting in two thousand pounds.'

Samuel whistled. *That's a mite o' coinage, no denying.'

*His lordship intends making his money back through charges,' Henry explained. *Jacob has agreed to act as the toll officer. The plan is to build a tollgate across the lane, in front of your cottage, Samuel.'

*Ho! I don't like the sound of strange folk staring in on me,' he said nervously.

*I hope it won't be too busy; the little ones play in the lane,' Martha fretted.

*Apart from the usual carts, I'd reckon on at least a couple of express carriages passing through each day,' Henry said. *Like Claire says, though, there's no need to worry, they won't reach our stretch for months.'

*I don't hold with all these changes,' Samuel said. *There's been potholes in this lane right back to the sixteenth century. I know every squad hole from *ere to Litcombe. This *ere Trust barging about filling them in ain't in the natural order of things.'

CHAPTER SEVEN.

FIRST LOSS.

That evening the clouds joined and rain fell noisily and steadily. Water dripped from the thatched eaves.

Playing marbles with pebbles at the hearthside, Eppie stroked Twiss's thick fur, warm from the fire.

Martha rushed indoors. Behind her the dull thud of the gale roared through bare-branched canopies. *That's the fowl shut up.' Grabbing a cloth, she roughed it through her damp hair as though she were scrubbing the table. *Your hair looks all of a caffle. I'd best give it a brushing.'

Eppie pulled a face of repulsion. *I don't like being combed.'

*Pretend you're one of Gramp's ewes.' Martha fetched the thatching shears to chop out a particularly difficult knot.

*How old is Twiss?' Eppie asked. *He's going white like Jacob. He's got one sticky-up ear and one floppy one. And he's always dribbling.'

*Are you talking about Jacob or Twiss?' Martha asked, laughing.

*Twiss!'

*Eight years we've had him. By, your neck's the colour of coal and your ears are none too clean. When the weather's warm, I'll scrub you in the stream.'

Eppie yelped as Martha accidentally tugged her hair with the comb. *I hate being washed!'

*You might like swimming in Shivering Falls. Wakelin learnt to swim there. He could teach you.'

Eppie grinned at Twiss, woofing in his sleep on the hearth rug. *I'll learn Twiss to swim.'

*Can't you sit still? The way you're going, I'll chop your snout off. Twiss has a dread of water. The other day I slopped a pail of water over his paws by mistake whilst he was asleep. He shot off quicker than a chestnut exploding on the fire. There, finished. Your pa will be back soon. I'll check the bacon.'

*I know the first thing he'll say when he comes in. What's to eat? A chap needs more than ale sloshing around his innards.'

Gillow burst in, dripping. *I've never known a night like it.' He threw off his jacket and rubbed his palms together. *What's to eat? A chap needs more than ale sloshing around his innards.'

Bouncing on the horsehair armchair, Eppie giggled in delight.

*And what might you be finding so funny, my little maid?' He grabbed her by her stomach and twisted her upside down. Twiss bounded around, barking madly.

Martha served the stew. *Tack's up!' she cried above their merriment.

Eppie's eyes opened wide in alarm as a terrific blast of wind taunted the cottage. *It's scary!'

*It'll dacker down by morning,' Martha soothed. Secretly, she also was afraid of the intermittent roar and tear of the storm.

Wriggling in at the table, Eppie picked up a pea and popped it into her mouth. *The rain sounds like a water wheel. Why can I hear the wind, but never see it?'

*Give me that leftover giblet pie, and all,' Gillow told Martha. *I take some stuffing.'

After the meal, the storm intensified.

There was not much heat in the flames, so Gillow dragged his chair close to the hearth.

Her head resting on his chest, Eppie scarcely felt the meagre warmth of the gusting fire. Rain dislodged clots of soot and sent them rattling into the grate.

From the stream came the sound of stones rolling and grinding.

*I fancy a drop of mulled ale with a double kick of rum,' Gillow said. *It'll knock me out for the night.'

Martha warmed the drink. *At Craft's bakery they were selling quarten loaves for twelve shillings. They were only seven and a half pence at the start of the year. How most folk manage I can't imagine.'

*Mmm,' Gillow answered, disinterested. *What d'ya say to a game of knuckle-bones before bed, my little maid?'

*I've won!' Eppie shrieked as her last sheep bone sent Gillow's scattering across the hearthrug.

*You cheated.'

She stamped her foot. *I never cog!'

*If that's true you look me in the eye, without giggling.'

Throwing back her head, she hooted with laughter.

*See, you did cheat.'

*It's your face; your bushy eyebrows go up and down, all silly.'

He took the flagon from Martha and blew hard on it. *Lovely! Nice and warming on a miserable night.'

Eppie hopped before the fire. *Give us a taste.'

*Eppie, is this your tumbler of milk in the larder?' Martha asked. *It smells off.'

Eppie yawned. *I think it was left over from tomorrow.'

*Sounds like someone's ready for their sack,' Gillow said, grinning at Eppie.

Martha helped Eppie to slip on her nightdress. *As it's so cold tonight I'll put your truckle bed beside the hearth,'

*Shh!' Eppie whispered, putting a finger to her lips. *The badgers are by the stream, saying quick, quick, quick. They'll have soggy paws.' Straw crunched as she snuggled down.

*Now go to sleep,' Martha said. *You'll be exhausted after running around with Grumps.'

*And Mister Lord's new ram, Carronade. Grumps says he's got an exploding bottom.'

Gillow chuckled. *I'll have an exploding bottom if I sit here much longer.' In weariness he rose and stretched to the rafters.

Martha was in the bedroom, plaiting her hair in readiness for bed. *I hope we don't have trouble with that fox tonight. He killed Claire's best layer.'

Gillow glanced at the fowling piece which hung from leather straps above the chimney hood. *If he dares show his muzzle in my garden I'll make a cushion out of him, like I did to his missus.' Staggering in the gloom, he kicked over the stool.

*Are you sure you can see straight to get to bed?' Martha asked.

*Jus' about.'

Wind tramped. Rain beat on the door like a drum.

Eppie threw her hands over her ears. *It's a growly wolf picking up the cottage!'

Martha kissed her goodnight.