He had seen her in the evening
standing in the stairway by the shop door. After the story told him by
the black-haired boy he had been embarrassed about her. When he passed
her standing in the stairway he went hurriedly along and looked into
the gutter.
They went down the hill and sat on the log upon the hillside. A clump
of elders had grown about the log since his visits there with Cracked
McGregor so that the place was closed and shaded like a room. The
woman took off her hat and laid it beside her on the log. A faint
colour mounted to her pale cheeks and a flash of anger gleamed in her
eyes. "He probably lied to you about me," she said, "I didn't give him
that ring to wear. I don't know why I gave it to him. He wanted it. He
asked me for it time and again. He said he wanted to show it to his
mother. And now he has shown it to you and I suppose told lies about
me."
Beaut was annoyed and wished he had not mentioned the ring. He felt
that an unnecessary fuss was being made about it. He did not believe
that the black-haired boy had lied but he did not think it mattered.
He began talking of his father, boasting of him. His hatred of the
town blazed up. "They thought they knew him down there," he said,
"they laughed at him and called him 'Cracked.
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