live in a little cottage like this, Missy, I'm sure. You must have quite
come out of your road. Whose little lady are you?"

Hoodie shook her head.

"I want to live with my grandmother," she replied. "I don't want to be
anybody's little lady. I've come such a long way--I know the cottage
should be aside a wood, just like this. And I'm _so_ tired and firsty."

The quiver in her voice told that the self-control was coming to an end.
The young woman's sympathy awoke at once.

"Poor dear," she said. "Tired, of course you must be tired. Come in,
dearie, and sit you down, and you shall have something to drink and to
eat too, if you please. What would you like?" she went on, after she had
established Hoodie on a funny little arm-chair by the fire--a chair
bought last fair-day by her husband in his extreme delight at being the
possessor of a fortnight old baby--"what would you like, Missy--a cup of
milk--or some tea? Kettle's boiling, and 'tis just upon tea-time."

"What a nice little chair," said Hoodie, making the observation that
first came into her head before replying to the questions asked her, as
was a habit of hers. "What a nice little chair! It just fits me,"
turning her fat little body--to confess the truth, a rather tight
fit--and the chair about together, like a snail congratulating itself on
its shell.

"Yes, Missy, and you're the first as has ever sat in it. It's to be for
baby, the dear, as soon as she's old enough to sit up in it. But about
what you'd like to drink, Missy?"

"I were going to tell you," said Hoodie, with a touch of her usual
authoritative manner. "I were going to tell you. I'd like tea--proper
tea on a table, 'cos I've got my bicsits and 'sings in my bastwick, and
we could put them out nicely. And if it's so far away to my
grandmother's perhaps I'd better stay here and fancy you're her"--she
glanced up in the young woman's face with such a queer, half-puzzled,
half-comical look in her eyes that her new friend really began to wonder
if the child was quite "right" in her head--"it would seem more like it,
if we had proper tea on a table. But asides that, I'm so firsty I'd like
a cup of milk first--just cold milk belone you know, to take away the
firsty. Martin _sometimes_ gives me a drink of milk like that just afore
tea when I'm very firsty, even though she says it spoils my tea."

"But I don't think it'll spoil your tea to-day, Missy," said the young
woman, as she fetched the cup of milk.