“Are you middling well off?”
“Yes, middling. Are you?”
“Oh, middling; but times are hard.”
“They are.”
She looked extraordinarily sad, and I said:—
“Still, we shall have a few years to wait for the workhouse.”
“Have to wait a few years!” she repeated, very serious, though smiling. “Have you come from Royston?”
“No; Newmarket.”
“Newmarket. Are you going far?”
“To Odsey, between Royston and Baldock.”