Early in the morning I went to the garden. Mrs. Davis's children did not choose to walk with me, so I went alone. When I returned home to breakfast (it being market-day Mr. Davis was gone to town) his wife and daughters did not speak to me once during the meal, excepting to tell me that the plums were laid under the trees. I finished my breakfast as soon as I could and returned to my work, grieved that I had lost the goodwill of people who were really kind to me, but whose practices were such as I could not follow. The hour of dinner came, and with a heavy heart I went to the cottage, dreading the angry looks, and perhaps reproaches, of Mrs. Davis. When I arrived there I found the brother and sister-in-law of Mrs. Davis were paying her a visit. I had seen these people once before, and soon after I came into the family; they were pedlars, and traversed the county from one end of it to the other. The man carried a large pack filled with linens, muslins, stuffs, and many other articles for clothing; his wife carried two boxes, with trinkets, lace, millinery, and a great variety of light goods. When I entered the room they turned their eyes upon me as if I had been the subject of their conversation, which I quickly found had been the case, for Mrs. Davis said to them:
'That is the girl I have been telling you of. She would be of great use to you, for she could carry one of the boxes, and in my house she is of no use in the world, but quite a burden to us, and she makes quarrels between my husband and me, for you know that Davis is so particular, and has such odd notions about honesty, that he seems to think it next thing to murder to take a bit of fruit or a sixpence belonging to Mr. Freeman. You never heard such a piece of work as we had last night because the girls had taken a few plums.'
She then in her own way told her brother of the keeping back part of the market-money and of the peaches. I was surprised that she was not ashamed of telling such things, but she was not, and her brother only laughed at them, and said that honesty was very well in its place, but that it was ridiculous to carry it so far.'
'But, however,' said he, 'I shall have no objection to Lady Anne (I think you call her) being very honest with us. I shall not be afraid of her robbing me.'
'No, indeed,' replied his sister; 'you will have no cause. You might trust her with your pack and boxes all open; she would not rob you of a farthing's worth; she is only too honest, that is her fault.'
'And it is a fault that perhaps I can cure her of,' returned her brother. 'But she has only been used to gardening. She will be of very little use to us, for we do not want a girl merely to carry a band-box.'
'She can work very well at her needle,' quickly answered his sister. 'It is unknown the sewing she has done for me since she has been here. I have never had the children so tidy in my life as since she has been with us. I shall miss her help very much, that I know I shall.'
'Do not let me go,' said I, for I was really frightened at the thought of being sent away with Mr. Sharpley and his wife. 'Pray let me stay. I will work so hard; I will do everything I can to please you.'
'Will you promise to take a little fruit, as the others do, and not say anything when you see my children take some, and to take a market-penny when you can get it?' answered Mrs. Davis. 'Promise me that, and you shall stay.'
'I cannot promise it,' said I, bursting into tears, 'for I must not steal.'