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"The Lord God. HE gives it to her till the babby gits teeth to bite with, and then it has to fend fur itself. The beasts are just the same."

"I wish He'd give summut to us older ones. I don't see why only the liddle 'uns should be fed."

"'Tis because they've got to grow. We're big."

In a time and a district when children went to work on the farms at three, and out to service at eight or nine, Susan, Tamar and Ruth were accounted big girls. Susan and Tamar were very much alike, tall and dark, with quick movements and dainty limbs. No doubt some strain of gipsy blood was in either Ruth or Adam Spray, and had come out in their two elder daughters. But little Ruth was Saxon all over, fair and chubby and slow. Both Susan and Tamar loved her—more than they loved each other.

"When I'm a bit older," said Tamar, "I'll run away and join a circus. I don't want to go out to service."

"You'd get plenty to eat if you went out to service, and I don't see what you'd do in a circus."

"I'd ride a horse. I'd wear a gown made of stars."