"I knew not," quoth I, "that thou hadst a Sister."
"How should ye, Mistress," returns she shortlie, "when ye never comes nigh us? We've grubbed on together this many a Year."
"'Tis soe far," I returned, half ashamed.
"Why, soe it be," answers Gammer; "far from Neighbours, far from Church, and far from Priest; howbeit, my old Legs carries me to your House o' Fridays; but I know not whether I shall e'er come agayn—the Rye Bread was soe hard last Time; it may serve for young Teeth, and for them as has got none; but mine, you see, are onlie on the goe;" and she opened her Mouth with a ghastly Smile. "'Tis not," she added, "that I'm ungratefulle; but thou sees, Mistress, I really can't eat Crusts."
After a Moment, I asked, "Where lies your Dwelling?"
"Out by yonder," quoth she, pointing to a shapeless Mass like a huge Bird's Nest in the Corner of the Field. "There bides poor Joan and I. Wilt come and looke within, Mistress, and see how a Christian can die?"
I mutelie complyed, in spite of Cecy's pulling at my Skirts. Arrived at the wretched Abode, which had a Hole for its Chimney, and another for Door at once and Window, I found, sitting in a Corner, propped on a Heap of Rushes, dried Leaves, and olde Rags, an aged sick Woman, who seemed to have but a little While to live. A Mug of Water stoode within her Reach; I saw none other Sustenance; but, in her Visage, oh, such Peace!... Whispers Gammer with an awfulle Look, "She sees 'em now!"
"Sees who?" quoth I.