'I won't,' answered Martha,--'not for the lord of the manor himself. The
house is ours, and I 'ware any of you to touch it. Go down to Stephen and
hear what he'll say. If thee takes the thatch off, thee shan't move me
out.'

But when the old stove-pipe, through which the last breath of the
household fire had passed, was drawn up, and the blue sky could be seen
through the cloud of dust and dirt with which the hut was filled, choking
the helpless old man and the frightened child, Martha's courage failed
her; and she went out, with little Nan clinging round her, and spoke as
calmly to the invaders as her rising sobs would let her.

'You know it's grandmother's own house,' she said; 'and the lord of the
manor himself has no right to it. But I'll go down and fetch Stephen, if
you'll only wait.'

'We daren't wait, Martha,' answered Morris kindly; 'and it's no use,
lass; the master's too many for thee. But thee go down to Stephen; and
we'll move the things safe, as if they were our own, and put them where
they'll not be broken; and we'll take care of little Nan and thy poor old
grandfather. Tell Stephen we're desperately cut up about it ourselves;
but, if we hadn't done it, somebody that has no good-will towards him
would have taken the job. So go thy poor ways with thee, my lass; we are
main sorry for thee and Stephen.'

The hot, choking smoke from the limekiln was blowing across the works;
and the dusty pit-bank was covered with busy men and boys and girls,
shouting, laughing, singing, and swearing, when Martha arrived at
Botfield. She was rarely seen at the pit, for her thrifty and housewifely