Anne was afraid. She was afraid to go home now and face her father all over, but she was also afraid of her father being wound up even more by Mrs. Blacke's involvement and her own disobedience. She stood very still, unable to decide either way.

Will decided he disliked Mrs. Blacke. "He wouldn't like that." He turned to Anne. "Just come home, Anne. Ye'll be in more trouble if 'e 'as ta come dow ta fetch ye."

"I don't care what 'e likes. Anne stays 'ere. Now off 'ome with ye."

The boy cast his sister a filthy look and then turned and ran away.

Anne trembled burst into tears. "Maybe 'e's right. It'll only rile 'im up..."

Lottie knelt down and hugged the poor girl. "It's okay, Anne. Yer safe 'ere. I'd never allow yer father te 'urt ye, that's a promise."

Anne sank down and shivered in Mrs. Blacke's arms. "But I'll have to go back eventually. They need me for the flither pickin'."

Bill decided to be helpful at the most unhelpful time. He appeared in the hallway and looked at the crying girl. "Don't cry lassie. We'll speak with yer father tomorrow. He'll take ye back in. Ye'll see."

"We'll talk," Lottie said with a condescending tone "but if he lays a finger on Anne, I'll toss 'im out on his ear."

Anne didn't quite understand Mr. Blacke's words, but she was too occupied with her own fear to think much about it, and just nodded. She felt nauseous.