After her came the rabble with a rush, flinging stones that had no mark and epithets that hit.
Grizel disdained to look over her shoulder.

Little hunted child, where was succor to come from if she could not fight for herself?
Though under the torture she would not cry out.

"What's a father ?" was their favorite jeer, because she had once innocently asked this question of a false friend.

One tried to snatch the letter from her, but she flashed him a look that sent him to the other side of the dyke, where, he said, did she think he was afraid of her?
Another strutted by her side, mimicking her in such diverting manner that presently the others had to pick him out of the ditch.

Thus Grizel moved onward defiantly until she reached Monypenny, where she tossed the letter in at the smithy door and immediately returned home.