k at her. But now, for three long frightful days to
come, she would be subject to his wrath during every moment of her
life.

"Will he speak to me, Fanny, d'ye think?" she asked.

"Of course he'll speak to you, child."

"But he hasn't, you know,--not since I've been home; not once; not as
he does to you and mother. I know he hates me, and wishes I was dead.
And, Fanny, I wishes it myself every day of my life."

"He wishes nothing of the kind, Carry."

"Why don't he say one kind word to me, then? I know I've been bad.
But I ain't a done a single thing since I've been home as 'd a' made
him angry if he seed it, or said a word as he mightn't a' heard."

"I don't think you have, dear."

"Then why can't he come round, if it was ever so little? I'd sooner
he'd beat me; that I would."

"He'll never do that, Carry. I don't know as he ever laid a hand upon
one of us since we was little things."

"It 'd be better than never speaking to a girl. Only for you and
mother, Fan, I'd be off again."

"You would not. You know you would not. How dare you say that?"

"But why shouldn't he say a word to one, so that one shouldn't go
about like a dead body in the house?"

"Carry dear, listen to this. If you'll manage well; if you'll be good
to him, and patient while you are with him; if you'll bear with him,
and yet be gentle when he--"

"I am gentle,--always,--now."

"You are, dear; but when he speaks, as he'll have to speak when
you're all alone like, be very gentle. Maybe, Carry, when you've come
back, he will be gentle with you."

They had ever so much more to discuss. Would Sam be at the trial?
And, if so, would he and his father speak to each other? They had
both been told that Sam had been summoned, and that the police would
enforce his attendance; but they were neither of them sure whether
he would be there in custody or as a free man. At last they went to
sleep, but Carry's slumbers were not very sound. As has been told
before, it was the miller's custom to be up every morning at five.
The two girls would afterwards rise at six, and then, an hour after
that, Mrs. Brattle would be instructed that her time had come. On
the Tuesday morning, however, the miller was not the first of the
family to leave his bed. Carry crept out of hers by the earliest
dawn of daylight, without waking her sister, and put on her clothes
stealthily. Then she made her way silently to the front door, which
she opened, and stood there outside