‘She sounds awfully kind - just like you’ said Bets.
Mrs. Jolly was pleased and laughed her hearty laugh. ‘Oh, you’ve got a soft tongue, haven’t you?’ she said. Bets was surprised. She thought all tongues must surely be soft.
She looked at Mrs. Jolly, and decided not to ask her any more questions about going to Sheepsale every Monday because nobody, nobody with such kind eyes, such a lovely smile, such a nice apple-cheeked face could possibly write an unkind letter! Bets felt absolutely certain of it. Mrs. Jolly began to fumble in her bag.
‘Now where did I put those humbugs?’ she said. ‘Ah, here they are? Do you like humbugs, Miss Bets? Well, you help yourself, and we’ll pass them over to the others as well.’
Pip was sitting by the young girl. He found it easy to talk to her.
‘What are you going to paint?’ he asked.
‘I’m painting Sheepsale market,’ she answered. ‘I go every Monday. It’s such a jolly market - small and friendly and very picturesque, set on the top of the hill, with that lovely country all round. I love it.’
‘Do you always catch the same bus?’ asked Pip.
‘I have to,’ she said. ‘The market’s in the morning, you know. I know it by heart now - where the hens and ducks are, and the sheep, and the butter-stalls and the eggs and everything!’
‘I bet you don’t know where the post-office is!’ said Pip quickly.