“Your sarvint, ma’am,” said the old dame. “Glad to see you.”
The milkmaid informed her mistress that the London lady had lost her way on the previous night, and had sought shelter in the granary, and, furthermore, that she wanted to reach the railway-station as soon as possible.
“I be sorry you had no better accommodation,” oberved the old lady, “but ee must be faint for want of summut to eat and drink. Sit ee down, and ha’ some breakfast, ma’am. Ye sha’n’t go away wi’ an empty belly.”
“I am sure you’re very kind. I have the wherewithal to pay for what I have.”
“Tush, tush, child; don’t ee be talking after that fashion. You are freely welcome to all I have. It be a poor tale indeed if we can’t help a fellow-creature in distress. Don’t you see—eh?”
“Yes.”
“An’ what brought ee to these parts, if it be a fair question?”
Miss Stanbridge hesitated, and turned away her head with mock modesty.
“Oh, well, if it be a secret, don’t say a word.”
“It isn’t much of a secret, as I know of,” observed the escaped prisoner. “I came unbeknown to my relatives. Had to meet a young man to whom I have been engaged.”