Martha put her hand over her mouth to hide a grin, but Joanna could see
it in her eyes and the dimples of her cheeks.

A sudden anger seized her.

"I won't have you gossiping with Socknersh, neither--you keep away from
my men. I've often wondered why the place looks in proper need of
scrubbing, and now I know. You can do your work or you can pack off. I
won't have you fooling around with my men."

"I döan't fool aräound wud your men," cried Martha indignantly. She was
going to add "I leave that to you," but she thought better of it,
because for several reasons she wanted to keep her place.

Joanna flounced off, and went to find Socknersh at the shearing. In the
shelter of some hurdles he and one or two travelling shearers were busy
with the ewes' fleeces. She noticed that the animal Socknersh was
working on lay quiet between his feet, while the other men held theirs
with difficulty and many struggles. The July sunshine seemed to hold the
scene as it held the Marsh in a steep of shining stillness. The silence
was broken by many small sounds--the clip of the shears, the panting of
the waiting sheep and of the dogs that guarded them, and every now and
then the sudden scraping scuttle of the released victim as it sprang up
from the shearer's feet and dashed off to where the shorn sheep huddled
naked and ashamed together. Joanna watched for a moment without
speaking; then suddenly she broke out:

"Socknersh, I hear it's said that the new lambs ull be poor in wool."