1. The narrator, an orphan boy who works for the vicar, is tasked with preparing the pony cart for the vicar's trip to Marlock on All Soul's Day. 2. As they travel through the frost-covered woods, the vicar berates the boy for any small mistakes. He then grabs the reins from the boy, startling the pony who loses control of the cart. 3. The cart crashes, throwing the vicar and leaving him dead in the road. The boy steals the vicar's wallet and gloves before setting off to Marlock with the pony, hoping it was a good day for the vicar's soul to reach heaven.

1. 1
ALL SOULS DAY
Outside the bedroom window, early morning mist clouded the
trees. I climbed out of bed and wiped the crust of ice from the inside
of the casement. Pulling on jacket and trousers over my nightclothes,
I slipped my feet into rough boots. It was time to light the fires and
wake the other servants. I skimped my firelighting and kicked the
bootboy awake, then skipped downstairs before he could catch me.
The night before, the vicar said “Tomorrow is All Soul’s Day I
shall want to be up before six o’clock to set out for Marlock. Harness
Bess and get the pony cart ready in good time.”
It was a command as usual. Why would he ask anything of the
workhouse child lodged in his garret?
Bess looked at me in surprise when I opened the stable door. Her
soft brown eyes held more affection for me than any human I knew.
As soon as I had the harness fitted, we trotted round to the front door
and waited. I was proud of my skill with animals and looked forward
to a journey into Marlock. It was the nearest town to our village and
an adventure for me.
The vicar was a tall man with a long face. I never saw him smile.
His angular jaw and heavy brow gave him a grim look and when he

2. 2
spoke you felt you must have done some wrong, tho’ you hadn’t.
He came down the front steps and pulled himself up into the cart.
“Walk on” he said as if I was the pony and we set off briskly into the
frosty air. The road to Marlock took us through the woods and as we
made our way it seemed we were passing through an arcade of
crystal pillars. On both sides the trees were a pattern of frosty
branches almost meeting over our heads. Occasional showers of soft
snow drifted down and settled on the pony’s back.
“Wake up! Keep to the middle of the road or you’ll have us over...”
In a second, the wonder of the morning vanished and I was again the
undeserving orphan who could do nothing right. I took up the reins
with a firmer hand so that Bess moved on obediently along the centre
of the road. My hands were inside the sleeves of my coat but the frost
was reaching them and my fingers stiffened as the cold crept up my
sleeves.
The priest huddled down inside his great coat and pulled his black
hat down tightly over his ears. He sat immobile as a block of marble
wrapped in a cover of canvas and fur, not watching the road ahead
but slouched with his eyes shut.

3. 3
I did my best to keep Bess in a straight line but the road was rough
and occasional sheets of ice made her slither for a few steps as she
regained her footing.
“Keep her steady, you little dullard or you’ll have us over.”
He grabbed the reins from my hands and pushed me out of the way.
The pony gibed at the unexpected jolt and pulled on the bit. Racing
off at a mad pace, bouncing off the verges, skewing across the road,
out of control. The vicar heaving at the reins and shouting. Then Bess
tripped and went down.
The rig bounced high in the air. It flung me into the brushwood
hedge. The parson catapulted out of the cart onto the road with a
thud and a crack you could have heard back home. Bess dragged the
upturned cart to a stop about fifty yards away. She looked back with
an insolent eye and then began to nibble at the frosty grass.
It took me some time to gather my wits and find that I was bruised
but not broken. The vicar lay inert, his face down on the icy surface
of the road, his arms spread out as if embracing the cold hard stones.
I stumbled over to him and knelt beside him. His hooded eyes seemed
to look at me with reproach but they never blinked.

4. 4
A trickle of blood oozed from his ear and when I stooped to listen to
his heart I heard nothing but the wind across his face and not a
sound from his body.
I remembered that at church on Sunday, Parson told us that All
Souls’ Day was the day when souls of the departed went to heaven if
we prayed for them.
So I prayed that his soul had gone to Heaven.
Then I pulled his wallet out of his coat, his gloves off his stiff hands
and set off for Marlock with Bess. I hope it was a good day for the
soul of the vicar.
It was a good day for me and Bess.