“Come, is you? I ’lowed victuals would fetch you,” grumbled the hag.
But Zora deigned no answer. She walked placidly to the table, where she took up a handful of cold cornbread and meat, and then went over and curled up by the fire.
Elspeth and the girl talked and laughed coarsely, and the night wore on.
By and by loud laughter and tramping came from the road‚ÅÝ‚Äîa sound of numerous footsteps. Zora listened, leapt to her feet and started to the door. The old crone threw an epithet after her; but she flashed through the lighted doorway and was gone, followed by the oath and shouts from the approaching men. In the hut night fled with wild song and revel, and day dawned again. Out from some fastness of the wood crept Zora. She stopped and bathed in a pool, and combed her close-clung hair, then entered silently to breakfast.
Thus began in the dark swamp that primal battle with the Word. She hated it and despised it, but her pride was in arms and her one great life friendship in the balance. She fought her way with a dogged persistence that brought word after word of praise and interest from Bles. Then, once well begun, her busy, eager mind flew with a rapidity that startled; the stories especially she devoured‚ÅÝ‚Äîtales of strange things and countries and men gripped her imagination and clung to her memory.
“Didn’t I tell you there was lots to learn?” he asked once.
‚ÄúI knew it all,‚Äù she retorted; ‚Äúevery bit. I‚Äôse thought it all before; only the little things is different‚ÅÝ‚Äîand I like the little, strange things.‚Äù