Gone to Earth

Gone to earth!

Foxy?

They're out tonight, father. I heard 'em.

Foxy heard 'em too.

You little blessin'... running away like that.

If you're lost, I'm lost.

Sit you there. There's bones for supper.

I've gotten some tin cups over by God's little mountain.

Get up!

Maybe the black meet's set for tonight...

like it says here in my mam's book.

I never looked back or I'd be dead by now.

But you're not dead, I see.

No daughter of mine will stuff herself with them old wives' tales!

You old beast, you!

You don't take a needle to that dress, you'll be motherin' naked within a week!

It will not mend.

Foxy would like me to get a new one!

I'll go to Wenlock in the morning.

The stew's burned again!

Stop yammering!

Play "Harps in Heaven."

"The Mountain Ash."

Beneath the roots lays father dear,

So dear

She be the tree that grew from out upon him

The mountain ash will bring me luck and treasures many,

The Mother Ash is life

and rare as angel's hair

Beneath her shade we shelter beasts and men all free from care.

Hey, missy!

You forgot the old one!

Margerine, Mr. James, is just as good as butter.

Butter's made of milk!

But where does milk come from? From the cows.

- And what does the cow eat? - Buttercups, eh?

Vegetation.

Now what...

I say... Hazel !

How do I look, cousin Albert ?

Jam! My word, you're jam, Hazel!

I'm going to tea at auntie's now. I'm fair famished!

I can always take ten minutes for tea time!

Are you staying the night, Hazel?

There's a magic lantern show on tonight.

Maybe your mother won't ask me to stay.

You leave that to me, Hazel!

You were saying when we was interrupted, Albert...

Sorry, Mr. James, what was I saying?

Vegetation.

Oh vegetation, yes, now...

Margerine is made from vegetation, like...

well, like butter.

Made by machines, not cows!

Just as good. Now let me explain...

Butter doesn't need any explanation, Albert.

Good day.

Good day, Mr. James.

I never seen a magic lantern show, Albert!

By gum, Hazel, you're...

you're butter!

A disgrace the way you look in that dress!

You look like an actress!

Do I, Aunt Prowde?

You do.

You quite draw men's eyes.

It's nice to draw men's eyes. Ain't it, Aunt Prowde?

Jam!

If you go on the way you're going, you'll get picked up my girl.

I'd like to see anyone pick me up! I'd kick!

I don't know about that. You take after your ma.

I'd be glad.

You ought to be as glad to take after one parent as another.

Your mother was a gypsy.

Some Christian to be born in a caravan as she were.

She was as good a Christian as some folk!

Are you going back to the store?

Well, see you later, Hazel.

You won't see her later cause Hazel must start now to get back before nightfall.

Hazel's staying the night, mother, surely!

She must go back to her father. We're short a room as it is.

She can have my room.

Hazel cannot have your room. It's not suitable.

Well... let her share yours, then.

Little I thought when your dear father went, that before three years passed,

you'd be so forgetful of my comfort as to suggest such a thing!

As long as I live, my room's mine!

When I'm gone...

the sooner the better for you, no doubt...

you can put her in my room, and yourself, too!

See here, that he never will! I keeps myself to myself!

What the devil are you doing down there?

She would not let me bide the night.

My foot's blistered in a balloon...

and there's blood on my new dress.

What's your name?

Hazel.

Hazel what?

Just Hazel.

Well mine's Reddin... Jack Reddin...

and why you're so dark about yours, I don't know.

But up you get anyway.

Your arm pulling me in be like the Sunday school tale

of Jesus Christ and Peter on the wild sea.

Me bein' Peter.

Vessons!

- Young lady's lost her way. - You'll find it for her, I've no doubt.

Get the brood mares in. They should have been in by this hour.

There, Randler...

I cannot bear hound dogs...

Nasty snapping things.

What's the matter with you?

You lie down, you fool. You've seen a girl before.

You hunt poor foxes?

So we ought.

Vermin.

You look like a hound dog when you laugh.

And you, you keep away from our Foxy.

Who's Foxy?

A little small cub as I took and reared.

You reared her, did you?

Aye, she lost her mam.

I'm her mam now.

You like that picture?

Or is it the dress you like?

If you stayed the night, then you could wear a new dress every day of the week.

If ifs and ands were beans and bacon, there's few would go with empty bellies!

Put it on.

I'll see how Vessons is getting on with the supper.

- She'll do. - How d'you know you'll do yourself?

I can't stand your manners much longer, Vessons!

Give me notice, then.

Get back to your kitchen.

Never shall it be said that a poor unprotected female

- found no friend in Andrew Vessons. - Oh shut up.

Who taught you to sing?

Father.

Who is your father?

Father's wonderful with the music.

He wins money prizes.

And he plays the chapel weekends up on God's Little Mountain.

Supper's burnt!

How did you do that, you fool?

I think to the lady teaching me how to sing.

Get out of the stable and stay there.

Can't he stay in the house?

Put it on.

I'd rather not.

Put it on, m'lady.

I ain't your lady.

Old feller...

Where be you?

What, after the older now?

I will not stay alone with him.

So he's had his trouble for nothing.

Hazel ?

Alright, sulk. It doesn't hurt me.

I never ran after a woman in my life.

Hungry?

You can have my room above the stables for the night. There's a key to it.

Here you be.

- Where will you sleep, Mr. Vessons? - Never you mind!

No woman should ever tell Andrew Vessons where to sleep.

I'll wake you at daybreak.

- A mug of beer? I brew it myself. - If you don't mind, I'd rather tea.

Tea?

Lord, how furiously do the women rage after tea.

Tea it shall be!

Come on!

Come on, Mary Ann!

Where do you live?

You needn't be scared to tell me. I'm six and sixty.

- You'll not tell him? - Him?

Not wild horses shall drag it from me...

nor yet, blood horses!

Nor hunters, nor cart-horses...

Nor Suffolk punches.

I lived at the Callow.

Callow?

That lost and forgotten place to the side of God's little mountain?

It isn't lost and forgotten.

- We've got bees. - So have I got bees!

And the music.

The music? What's a music? You can't eat a music.

- My dad makes coffins. - Does he now?

Ahh, but you haven't got a swan made out of a euc tree.

Twenty years I've been a-clippin' it.

Only the beak is missing.

Never tell him where I live.

Never in life!

Never tell him...

unless he asks it to you, and cannot rest.

He may ask till doomsday.

This is to Undern ? Never will I...

- Edward ? - Yes mother?

You told me a lady singer was coming.

Yes, that's right. Her father accompanies her on the harp.

Mr. and Ms. Woodus.

Hazel!

Come on, girl!