A. T. Quiller-Couch

“ Some one cried, "They're off!" and a murmur grew and rolled nearer—rising, as it approached, from a murmur into great waves—waves of Homeric laughter.
The race went by, and a stranger race Tilda had never beheld. The competitors were all women, of all ages—village girls, buxom matrons, withered crones—and each woman held a ladle before her in which an egg lay balanced. Some were in sunbonnets, others in their best Sunday headdress. Some had kilted their skirts high. Others were all dishevelled with the ardour of the race. ”

“ In all, fourteen competitors rolled in, some with empty ladles, some laughing and protesting that not a step farther could they stir. But, long before the crowd closed in, Tilda saw the winner breast a glimmering line of tape stretched at the end of the course, and heard the shouts saluting her victory.
"But who is it?"
"Miss Sally!"
"Miss Sally, if ever you heard the like!... But there! blood will tell."
"It's years since I seen her," said a woman. "You don't say! Never feared man nor devil, my mother used to tell. An' to run in a race along with the likes of Jane Pratt! ”

“ Swearin' don't sit well upon womankind, I allow—not as a rule. But when there's blood, a damn up or down—what is it? For my part I never knew a real gentleman—or lady for that matter—let out a downright thumper but I want to cry 'Old England for ever!'"
Finding it hopeless to skirt the crowd, the children made a plunge through it, with 'Dolph at their heels. But as the crush abated and they breasted the farther slope, Tilda made two discoveries; the first, that whereas a few minutes since the platform had held a company of people among its palms and fairy-lamps, it was now deserted ”

“ Tilda did not answer this question.
"That's the way with Bill," she said loyally. "Folks never know 'is worth till they miss 'im. Bess allowed to me that before the evenin's out Gavel will be offerin' 'is shirt to 'ave 'im back—an' Bess don't know the worst neither. They've put on a boy to work the engine, an' Bill 'as told me things about that boiler o' Gavel's ... ”

“ We're in a tight place, but it's our turn to play. (That's another sayin' o' Bill's. Oh, dear, I wish you'd known 'im!) You see, we know where Glasson is an' what 'e's up to, an' can look out accordin'. That's one card to us. ”