The good old man, in the mean time, by the kind assistance of Mary, proceeded with slow but sure steps. She asked him to stop and rest himself a little, and told him, that her house was that before him. “Pray stay,” said she, “and sit a little under that large tree. My parents, indeed, are not at home, and therefore you will not be so well treated; yet it will be a little rest to you.”
The old man accepted Mary’s offer. She brought him out a chair, and then fetched some bread and cheese and good small beer, which was all the pretty maid could get at. He thanked her very kindly, and then entered into conversation with her.
“I find, my dear,” said he, “you have parents. I doubt not but you love them, and they love you. They must be very happy, and may they always continue to be so.”
“And pray, good old man,” said Mary, “I suppose you have got children.” “I had a son,” replied he, “who lived in London, loved me tenderly, and frequently came to see me; but alas! he is now dead, and I am left disconsolate. His widow, indeed, is rich; but she assumes the character of the lady, and thinks it beneath her to inquire whether I be dead or living, as she does not wish it to be known, that her husband’s father is a peasant.”
Mary was much affected, and could hardly believe that such cruel people existed. “Ah! certain I am,” said she, “that my dear mother would not behave so cruelly.” He then rose and thanked Mary with a blessing; but she was determined not to leave him, till she had accompanied him a little way further.
As they walked on, they saw the little boy who had been following them; for he run on some way before, and was then sitting on the grass. When they looked upon him he cast his eyes downwards, got up after they had passed, and followed them again. Mary observed him, but said nothing.
She asked the old man if he lived alone. “No, little lady,” answered he, “I have a cottage on the other side of that meadow, seated in the middle of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. An old neighbor, whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my ground. He is an honest man, and I am perfectly easy in his society; but the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have I the happiness to see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me.”
These complaints touched the heart of Mary, who told him that she and her mother would come and see him. The sensibility and kindness of this little girl, served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his mind the loss he had sustained in his son. Tears came in his eyes, when he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and instead of again putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped aside, and fell unnoticed by him or Mary.
The little boy who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to pick it up, and gave it to the old man, saying, “Here, good old man, you dropped your handkerchief and here it is.”—“Thank you heartily, my little friend,” said the old man. “Here is a good natured lad, who does not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. You will certainly become an honest man. Come both of you to my habitation, and I will give you some milk.” They had no sooner reached the old man’s cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had, which though coarse, was good. They all sat down upon the grass, and made a comfortable repast. However, Mary began to be afraid her parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being scolded by his mother.
“This mother of your’s,” said the old man, “must be very cross to scold you.”