Yorkshire, 1867. This is Thomas. He’s 7 years old. And he’s standing alone in a frozen field at 4 in the morning. Thomas is a bird scarer. His job: Stand in the fields from dawn to dusk. Wave a wooden clapper. Shout. Keep birds away from the farmer’s crops. Alone. All day. Every day. It’s February. The coldest winter in twenty years. Thomas has been in the field since 4 AM. It’s now 3 PM. Eleven hours. The temperature is below freezing. He’s wearing the only clothes he owns. Thin cotton shirt. Torn trousers. No coat. No shoes. The farmer says coats make children lazy. Shoes cost money. The farmer stands at the edge of the field. Wearing a heavy wool overcoat. Leather gloves. Tall boots. Warm and comfortable. Thomas is barefoot. In February. In a frozen field. Thomas stops waving the clapper. His hands won’t move anymore. Too cold. He sits down in the frozen mud. Just for a moment. Just to rest. He doesn’t stand up again. The farmer finds him at dusk. Frozen to death. Age seven. Sitting...