But as the carriage advanced down the street, these various movements and activities seemed to unite and weld together, becoming integrated into a hostile fund of burning silence and enmity. The children, less intimidated than their elders, stood and stared, and when the carriage stopped, one collier, too old and too sick to care what happened to him, hawked and spat on the cart-road, his face crimson, his lips flaked with blood. Then, after staring directly and accusingly at Pritchard, he squatted bare armed on the flags outside his house.
Unperturbed by this silent protest, Pritchard climbed down from the carriage and said to the others, ‘shan’t be long, but I really must have a word with my manager while I’m here, and see if everything’s all right. Perhaps you’d care to have a look around?’
[Days of Hope, Allen, J.]
- submitted by Pearce, M. A.
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