Mary civilly replied, "We are going up to Farmer Long's, ma'am; father sent us."
"Ah!" replied the crone; "going up to Farmer Long's for father, are ye, my chickens? Fine times, forsooth, when John Gower's children go visiting instead of minding their business at home. But pray, what have you got in that basket, my pretty Minnikin?"
"Only a kitten, ma'am, that father is going to give to Aunt Sal—I mean to Mrs. Long," replied the girl.
"Only a kitten!" cried the other crone, who had not yet spoken; "only a kitten, indeed! and how does John Gower the labourer have kittens to give away, I should like to know? Our poor old Grimalkin here has lost a kitten lately—I wonder whether this can be the same, strayed over to John Gower's house. If he had a kitten to give away, he might have thought of his poor neighbours, methinks, instead of the rich farmer's wife!"
When Mary heard these words she begin to tremble for the safety of her kitten, for as I have already remarked, the Crones of Mersham were not famous for distinguishing clearly between other people's property and their own.
So she made reply very quickly in these words: "Please, ma'am, this kitten can't be your cat's, because we've known it ever since it was born, and its mother too, and it has never been out of our charge yet."
"No matter, no matter," said the crone in a testy voice; "let me see it, and I shall soon know all about it."
Mary did not dare refuse, nor would it have been of much use if she had done so.
The crone stretched out her long, skinny hand, and lifting the basket-lid, saw the little black kitten; which, immediately that it saw her, crouched down in the corner of the basket and uttered a low moaning sound.
"Poor little thing!" said the old hag. "Poor little thing! I can hardly see it so. Look, sister Jane!" and the other crone came and peered also into the basket, whilst the kitten continued to crouch and moan.