The Clock by James Lincoln Collier Page B

afternoon, and finally decided I’d slip out and head for home a few minutes early. Mr. Hoggart wasn’t thinking about anything but the waterwheel, for if it froze up and the mill stopped, Colonel Humphreys would lose a good deal of money. It was Mr. Hoggart’s place to see that things like that didn’t happen.
    So I kept an eye on the clock in the bell tower and when it got to be just a few minutes before five, I told Hetty that I was feeling sick and thought I was going to throw up. I grabbed my coat, and went on out of the slubbing room and down the long stairs to the ground.
    I stood for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, listening. Over the rumble of machinery coming from inside the building I could hear the thumps and shouts and curses of the boys whacking ice off the waterwheel. I felt sorry for them; they’d be doing that all night, so the wheel wouldn’t freeze up at night.
    I listened for the sound of Mr. Hoggart’s voice. I didn’t hear it. I wished I knew where he was, but I didn’t dare look around the corner of the building to the waterwheel to see if he was there. I went around the building the other way, out to the mill road. A line of alder bushes ran alongside the mill road. I slipped in behind them on the snowy field so as to be out of sight of the mill as much as possible. Of course, the bushes were bare of leaves, but the alders were thick and covered me up pretty fair.
    The snow was crusted over as hard as brick and as slippery as butter. I had to hang onto the alder bushes to keep from falling down. I went on slipping and sliding down toward the town road. And I was halfway there when I saw Mr. Hoggart turn off the town road onto the mill road. He was carrying a jug of rum, and slipping and sliding himself.
    I was scared as I could be, for if he looked close he was bound to see me through the alders. I stopped moving, and crouched down, getting colder by the minute. On he came, cursing when he slipped, and carrying the jug cradled in his arms, so it would be protected if he fell down. He’d rather break an arm than that jug, I figured. He was concentrating on his footing, and keeping his eyes on the dips and ruts in the road, and I prayed that he’d keep on doing that until he got by me. He kept on coming until he was abreast of me. Then he stopped, uncorked the jug, and raised it to his lips. With the jug in midair, he looked around to see if anyone was noticing him. The only person he saw was me crouched down behind the alders.
    â€œYou,” he shouted. “Where do you think you’re going?” He bent over and set the jug down on the frozen snow. I didn’t wait but started on out of there, slipping and sliding along behind the alders, grabbing hold of them as I went. But I was licked, because he was out on the mill road, which was chewed up, and gave him better footing than I was getting in the field of frozen snow behind the alders. He followed along abreast of me, cursing and shouting, and trying to grab me through the alder bushes. I was as scared as could be, my heart thumping, and sweating even in that cold.
    â€œHold still, damn you,” he shouted. I didn’t stop, but went on scrambling along toward the town road. I figured if I made it safely there I could make a run for it. I might have a chance then, because he wouldn’t want anybody to see him chasing a mill girl down the road.
    All of a sudden he made a dive for me, into the alders. He crashed through them and fell on his belly. I turned to run out across the snowfield. I didn’t make more than ten feet before I slipped and went down. He kneeled up, dove across the slick snow, and was on me. I staggered to my feet. He swatted me across the face, knocking me back into the snow. Tears began to leak out of my eyes. Then he looked down at me. “If I didn’t have that water-wheel to worry about, I’d teach you a lesson you’d never forget, miss. Now,