"Two gallipots," said one old woman, "for you to put your black currant jam in."
"A few cuttings of geraniums," said a young gardener who worked in Victoria Park; "try if you can get them to take."
"My school-prize," said a big girl, putting a red-and-gold-covered book into the hands of little Amy; "I've grown too old for it, so you may have it."
And Miss Sutton came with the good news that one great West-end draper had promised to meet his workwomen face to face, and no longer to employ any middlemen. "For which you will be thankful," said Miss Sutton to Mrs. Mitchell, "though you will not yourself reap the benefit."
Yes, Mrs. Mitchell was very thankful for many things; but there was one which brought ever-fresh tears to her eyes as she left the swarming city. "I leave three little graves!"
And Juliet! She hardly knew how she ought to feel or how she did. Certainly there was a great deal of shame in her heart; and equally certainly there was a great deal of pride—not the old pride of self-conceit, but a reasonable pride in knowing so much about the things of the country. She had enough to do to explain to her brothers and sisters the many new things which they saw from the train, and to answer their hundreds of questions.
At Littlebourne there was quite a sensation on their arrival. Mr. Burnet was there in his pony-carriage, and Leonard, and Mrs. Bosher's brother with a donkey-cart. Mrs. Rowles and Emily laughed and cried over their relations; and poor Mitchell became so faint from fatigue and emotion that Mrs. Webster, who now arrived on the scene, hurried him and his wife and little ones into a "fly" to get them out of the hubbub.
The station-master and the porters were quite glad when this party moved off.
They went slowly along the roads, in the soft air sweetened by recent showers, talking all together, all at the same time. What did it matter? Nobody wanted to hear anybody's words except his own. At the cottage they ceased talking, and all ran about through the small garden, up and down the flight of stairs, in and out the rooms.
Then Mrs. Webster laid down on the dresser a parcel containing home-made bread and fresh butter. Next Mrs. Bosher's brother brought from the donkey-cart some bacon, eggs, and milk. The pony-carriage had concealed under the seat some soap, candles, and cheese. Mrs. Rowles had a bundle of blankets as a loan, for the present moment; and Mrs. Bosher came in with sheets and towels for Mrs. Mitchell to use until her own arrived. All these kindnesses overpowered the London people, and they knew not how to thank their new friends.