"Oh, my God!" cried the mother, sinking back in her chair
and trembling like a leaf. The children ran and hid in the scrub.
Mary stood up, terribly calm, and waited. The eldest trooper dismounted,
came to the door, glanced suspiciously at the remains of the meal,
and abruptly asked the dreaded question:

"Mrs. Wylie, where's your husband?"

She dropped the tea-cup, from which she had pretended
to be drinking unconcernedly.

"What? Why, what do you want my husband for?" she asked
in pitiful desperation. SHE looked like the guilty party.

"Oh, you know well enough," he sneered impatiently.

Mary rose and faced him. "How dare you talk to my mother like that?"
she cried. "If my poor brother Tom was only here -- you -- you coward!"

The youngest trooper whispered something to his senior,
and then, stung by a sharp retort, said:

"Well, you needn't be a pig."

His two companions passed through into the spare skillion,
where they found some beef in a cask, and more already salted down
under a bag on the end of a bench; then they went out at the back
and had a look at the cow-yard. The younger trooper lingered behind.