immensely.
Ben spoke aloud to the dog as he approached.
'You great lazy lump, you should be carrying this. Whew! Miz Winn certainly takes some keeping up with for
an old lady. Hello there, you two!'
Amy pointed to the package beneath his arm. 'What's in the parcel, Ben?'
To her surprise he looked faintly embarrassed. 'Some new clothes. Miz Winn bought them. I didn't want her to,
but she thinks I need to look respectable for Sunday church service tomorrow. Move over there, pals.'
Ben sat with them on the post office steps, watching folk following their weekend shopping routines as always.
Shop doorbells tinkled as people came and went, standing beneath the canvas awnings, gossiping and viewing the
goods behind the bull's-eye-paned windows of drapers, chandlers, butchers, and dairy produce merchants.
Housewives with heavily laden shopping bags hanging from the handles of baby perambulators, calling to husbands
who were chatting to other menfolk outside the newsagent and tobacconists. Children with coned paper bags,
emerging from the sweetshop, sucking on treacle toffees, aniseed balls, and nut brittle, gazing absently about to locate
their parents. Ben could not help commenting.
'Odd, isn't it. You wouldn't think that the place has less than a week left as a village. Don't they care, what's the
matter with them?'
The girl watched Ben's intense blue eyes studying the scene. 'My mum says it's because they're village folk,
with a village mentality. She says they won't accept it could happen to them. These village families go back centuries.
They just don't know what progress and change mean. If anything frightens them, they push it to the back of their
minds and get on with their lives. Hoping it'll go away, I suppose.'
Alex's face reddened, and he stared down at the step. 'Like me. I try to ignore Wilf Smithers and his gang. I
wasn't much use to you yesterday, never said a word, just stood there like a lump.'
Ben patted his friend's arm reassuringly. 'But you did do something, pal, you stood alongside Amy and me. It
was Ned who saved the day. I was as scared as you or your sister—there was a whole gang of them. No shame in
being afraid when you're outnumbered more than three to one, right, Amy?'
The girl could see their new friend was being kind to her brother, and she nodded. 'That's right, Ben. There's
better ways of being brave than letting yourself get beaten up by Smithers's gang.'
Ben rose as he saw Mrs. Winn approaching. 'Your sister's right, Alex. Courage shows itself in different
ways—chin up, pal, you'll see.'
Mrs. Winn loaded more purchases into the basket and greeted the two young people.
'Well, good morning, do you remember me? You came with your father when my cat was sick last year. Now
let me see, you both had names beginning with A ... Amelia and Alexander!'
Alex had cheered up a bit, and he corrected her. 'Amy and Alex, Miz Winn. I remember you gave us apple pie
and lemonade. How is your cat now?'
Mrs. Winn rummaged through her purse as she replied. 'Horatio's fine, thank you, fine. Ben, how would you
like to take your friends for some ice cream? Evans Tea Shoppe makes their own, you'll enjoy it. I'll come over later
for tea and a scone. Here, Amy, you can be in charge of the ice cream money. Don't forget to buy one for Ned, too.
He's a good dog.'
Ben picked up the basket. 'Where are you going, Miz Winn?'
Setting her lips tightly, she pointed at two figures entering a building on the square's east side. 'Right where
those two are going, to my lawyer's office. I've been hoping to see Mackay. Time's of the essence, isn't it.' She had
said nothing about an appointment. 'I'll see you later.'
As they watched Mrs. Winn walking swiftly across to the lawyer's office, Amy nodded to the man who was
ushering a young lady into the building ahead of him. 'That's Obadiah Smithers, Wilf's dad. He's the one who's
buying the village to turn it into a cement factory. I don't know who the lady is, though.'
Ben glanced at the pair. 'Neither do I, but I saw them get off the train together when I arrived here. Maybe she's
from London, part of that firm Smithers has dealings with—'
Alex interrupted. 'Jackman Donning and Bowe, that's who my dad said they were. Wonder which one she is?'
17.
EVANS TEA SHOPPE DID SERVE GOOD ICE cream—it came in a long dish, pink and white with raspberry
sauce and chocolate crumbs sprinkled on top. Mr. Evans worked in the back of the shop, baking and making ice
cream. Blodwen, his wife, an immense jolly woman with a strong Welsh accent, served them. Though animals were
not usually allowed inside, she was charmed by the big black Labrador, who looked very meek and offered his paw.
Mrs. Evans lifted the edge of the tablecloth. 'Ooh look you now, there's a lovely dog, he is. Sit him under the table
now. Indeed to goodness, who'd be keepin' a fine dog like him outside with no ice cream!'
As Ned tucked into his ice cream, which came on a tin plate, Ben tuned in to the dog's thoughts. 'Delicious,
wonderful stuff. Just the thing after a hard morning's shopping!' Ben put his feet on the dog's back as he answered.
'You great furry fraud!'
Ben pulled aside the lace curtain. From where he was sitting he could see an ancient, rambling, one- story
building at the square's northwest corner. It was a jumble of wattle and daub, stonewalling and patches of worn brick,
with crumbling mortar, makeshift repairs against the ravages of time. The faded roof of thatch sat on it like a badly
fitted wig with a raggedy fringe. A large bump sticking up in the center of the roof gave it an odd, rather
