LIB.

Mayhap it is the husband-shapes a-coming.

NAN.

We shall see nought but what is in our thoughts.

Yet I'd be very fain to see my man....

When Gib at Hornbeam-Shallows lost his wife He had to hire a wench for the first time And at next Martimas hiring came to me And offered me four pounds for the half year, Saying he'd give me his wife's milking coats To make it up, ay, and her two best shawls, One darned across the neck-place, one loom-new; I told him I would liefer have her shoes-- That frightened him so well he stammered off.

But Sib had heard; she drew him with her eyes, And said she'd go for three pounds and the shawls If he would let her use a gown sometimes.

Then at each hiring she stayed on for less, Till in the third year's end he wedded her; And so she's gotten shawls and shoes as well.

I missed a savoury chance, for he is old And childless; both stock and land are his: Ay, if I had gone quietly to him Ere now I might have had him for myself.

BET.

I should not wait three years for any man....

When Sib would hire a la.s.s Gib said his other Had done without for seven and thirty years, And he had ringed her but to save her wage: At first he sent the hind to milk for her, But stopped him soon, saying that men's hands Made cow-teats h.o.r.n.y; then at Whitsun hiring He let him go, grutching it was waste With such a goodly woman in the yard; So now she has to herd and fork and winnow, To drive the cart and take a side of thatch....

Gib says young wives are better worth their fodder Than worn ones. Truly she has a gown sometimes, For she goes ever in an old woman's wear-- He says the other's gear will last her days.

Nan must surely see more than that to-night.

LIB.

Ah, but Sib knows him: he does so fondle her; He lets her hair down every eve to spread it And feel the pleasure of the comb's sleek goings, Bidding her "Stand over" as when a cow Rubs up against the boust at milking-time; While, when they gleaned their harvest fields by moonlight To stint the widows, he would bend down as she Bobbed up a mouth all blackberry-stains to kiss ...

Before she is fit for kitchen toil again He will so wonder how she has grown the mistress....

BET _laughs._

URSEL, _shivering._ Hush, do not laugh; it creeps up in the roof, And drips on us again like the thick water Through the black pulpy thatch-leak in November....

That laugh sounded as lonely as one flail....

_There is a silence._

MAUDLIN.

The heifer ceased to moan a moment past-- It seems as if it holds its breath to listen....

_There is a long silence._

BET.

I need to speak, but what I have forgotten....

URSEL.

La.s.s, do not make us speak, or we may miss it....

MAUDLIN.

O, do not speak to us, or we may miss it....

LIB.

We could not hear you for this listening....

NAN.

I look so deeply that I cannot see...

I cannot listen for it for listening....

_There is a long silence which pulses slowly with half-caught heavy breaths and slight restless rustlings of the hay in which the women seem motionless._

BET.

Do I feel something? Do we feel something growing?...

_Quiet steps are heard to shift the lane's pebbles. The women look sharply at each other, start soundlessly to their feet and lean toward the door; they move forward half eagerly, yet each seeks to put the others before her, so that as they near the door> NAN poises unwillingly foremost; when the light catches their faces they seem about to laugh._

NAN.

Nay, I'll not meet it--perhaps it is not mine ...

I will not know aforetime to despoil The gradual joy of waking to a man-- I will not lose one feeling of dear change, Or slur it by being conscious of the next....

Yet even then love should be marvellous As the surprise of secret lights expected ...

O, if I meet some one I do not want....

Come, maids, join hands and let us go together-- Still, we might make too sure....

_When NAN is across the threshold the others huddle back. The steps come nearer. In the road beyond NAN a woman appears quietly from the left; so far as it is possible to see, her features and array are the counterpart of NAN'S._

NAN, _continuing._ Hey, here's a woman ...

Lib, did you tell the slatterns at Cherry-Close mill?

Nay, 'tis some rag-bag sleeper under hedges....

BET, _in an undertone of wonder._ Why are their coats alike?

NAN, _turning her head and calling._ Ursel, Ursel, She's from the farm--our granary has been searched; For see, she wears my old plum petticoat-- Come, let us strip her and pen her in a sty ...

But ... I have on my old plum petticoat ...

And how can she come from the farm when she goes to the farm?...

LIB, _hastily and below her breath._ Fetches and wraiths ... fetches and wraiths ... fetches and wraiths ... _Peering about her._ Is there no way from here?

MAUDLIN, _under her breath._ My mother's grandmam Saw her own fetch a week before she died....

BET, _in a low tone._ Come through the neat-house ere we too see ours-- Ursel, come ... come....

URSEL, _in a hushed voice._ If all your days are used Your fetch can meet you at the neat-house door-- Ah, stay, for Nan will need us when ... that goes....

_BET, LIB, and MAUDLIN hurry and crowd into the mistal unheedingly.

Meanwhile the woman has pa.s.sed from left to right along the road, turning always to NAN and holding out her arms to her._

NAN, _leaning out toward her with her hands pressed over her heart._ Her unapparent features make me feel How others must feel my face.... The droop of her skirt Is creeping on my hips.... I have watched my feet Draw sideways so.... Her shadow is long like mine About the bosom ... I wish I could touch her hair-- I know so well the tingle and smell of my hair ...

Is this a fetch?

_She reaches forward as if she would follow, until she is in the middle of the road; the woman pa.s.ses from, sight to the right. NAN'S body loosens; she turns confusedly to the barn and sees URSEL'S face pale in the shade._

NAN, _continuing._ O, Ursly, where have I gone?

I have lost myself, for I was here but now....

_She remembers and shakes._ Dear soul, what did you see?

URSEL, _taking her in her arms._ I saw what you saw.

NAN.

Was it my fetch?

URSEL. I think it was a fetch.

NAN, _numbly._ I must be going to die.... I cannot feel so ...