“Where there are cows I have an idea that there must be milk,” observed Thud. “I’m as thirsty as a frog, and as tired as a hack on Holborn Hill.”
“Oh! a drink of milk would be a luxury,” cried Io.
“I will try to procure some at once,” said her husband.
“Might we not go to the village ourselves?” suggested Io; “it would be something so novel, so amusing.”
Io’s slightest wish was a law to Oscar. The little ladder was at hand, and he helped his wife to descendfrom her lofty perch. Maha, as before, needed no assistance.
“She’s a kind of monkey,” observed Thud with contempt.
The party proceeded towards the village, Io leaning upon the arm of her husband. By the side of the path sat a very old man, wrinkled and bent. He lifted up his head at the sound of strangers’ feet, and the Coldstreams then perceived that he was quite blind.
“Blind, poor, and so old!” exclaimed Io. “Oscar dear, have you a coin about you?”
The coin was produced and silently dropped by Io into the old man’s hand.
“The Lord reward you!” ejaculated the old native in the Karen tongue.