And so she is; and has “carried the bag”—only without the dishonesty of a Judas—for the last twenty years. Wonderful old lady. About seventy, and walks twelve miles, at least, in all weathers, every day of her life.
A little girl, her granddaughter, walks by her side, and a sharp terrier accompanies the pair.
Poor old woman! blind.
I am disarmed.
The little girl informs me that “it's the folks at the post office as is wrong.”
Generally true.
“Good-bye old Martha, and here's a Christmas-box for you.”
“Ar, thank'ee kindly, sir.”
