Now some old women are apt to be very inquisitive about what does not concern them, yet they are by no means to be answered rudely on that account.
"Why, yes, pretty miss," cried the old woman, dropping a low curtsey (for she soon saw that it was Miss Emma Selwhyn she was talking to), "it is close by; and, as I am going that way, I will shew you: but pray, miss, may I be so bold as to inquire who you may want? for, alack-a-day! nobody lives there but Margery Blackbourne, the woodman's widow, and her daughter Fanny, who is nothing better than a poor primrose girl!"
"A poor primrose girl!" cried Emma. "Ah, Goody, you are right, it is that poor child I am going to see; and though she is nothing better than a primrose girl, yet I like her very much, because she is good to her mother who is sick; besides Fanny is altogether the nicest little girl I ever saw!"
"Fanny is much obliged to you, I am sure," rejoined the old woman; "and indeed, I cannot say but the poor thing has a hard life of it. To be forced to cry primroses from morning till night is no easy matter, when one is both hungry and thirsty. But there is her mother, Miss; do not you see her by yonder stile, picking up some dry sticks to light her fire, while Fanny, I suppose, is gone to try if she can get her a morsel of bread."
Emma did not wait to listen to any further conversation of the old woman, but she did not forget to reward her for the trouble she had taken in shewing her the way, and slipping six-pence into her hand, wished her good morning. She then went directly to the door of the poor primrose girl, and found, to her no small satisfaction, that she had not yet set out on her accustomed ramble, but was busily employed in boiling a little pottage, over a very little fire for her mother's breakfast. Emma immediately accosted her thus:
"Ah, little Fanny, (for I am told that is your name) how do you do? and how is your mother? I promised I would come, and I am so happy, you cannot think, to find you at home."
"Miss, will you be so good as to sit down?" asked the primrose girl; "here is mother's great chair; it is the best we have got."
"I do not mind where I sit, thank you, Fanny," said Emma, seating herself on a little wooden stool before the fire, and placing her basket on the table; "but I must not stay long, because my papa and mamma do not know where I am; so make haste, Fanny, if you please, and empty the basket which I have brought with me. I told you it would hold a great deal, and it is quite full."
The primrose girl did as she was desired; but when she saw the plum-cake at the bottom of the basket, the poor little creature was so overcome, that she burst into a flood of tears, and turning to Emma, clasped her little sun-burnt hands together with heartfelt gratitude!
"Oh, Miss!" she exclaimed, "this is too much for poor people like us to expect. That you should save your plum-cake on purpose that we might share it is so kind, so very kind, that indeed my heart is quite full, and so will mammy's be, when she sees you."