Still Our Lady made no sign.

Lovey grew desperate.

"Aw, very well, then!" she cried. "Try what it feels like without
your liddle Jesus!"

And reaching up a hand, she snatched at and lifted the Holy Child
that fitted into a stone socket on Our Lady's arm. It came away in
her grasp, and she fled, tucking it under her shawl.

All the way home Lovey looked for the earth to gape and swallow her,
or a hand to reach down from heaven and grip her by the hair; and all
the way she seemed to hear Our Lady's feet padding after her in the
darkness. But she never stopped nor stayed until she reached home;
and there, flinging in through the door and slamming to the bolt
behind her, she made one spring for the bed, and slid down in it,
cowering over the small stone image.

_Rat-a-tat! tat!_--someone knocked on the door so that the cottage
shook.

"Knock away!" said Lovey. "Whoever thee be, thee 'rt not my cheeld."

_Rat-a-tat! tat!_

"My cheeld wouldn' be knockin': he's got neither strength nor sproil
for it. An' you may fetch Michael and all his Angels, to tear me in
pieces," said Lovey; "but till I hear my own cheeld creen to me, I'll