"I haven't getten nowt to talk about," said Janey, stoutly. "What mun I say?"
"Anything you like," responded Miss Ffrench. "I am not particular. There's a chair."
Janey seated herself in it. It was a large one, in which her small form was lost. Her parcel was a big one, but Miss Ffrench did not tell her to put it down, so she held it on her knee and was almost hidden behind it, presenting somewhat the appearance of a huge newspaper package, clasped by arms and surmounted by a small, sharp face and an immense bonnet, with a curious appendage of short legs and big shoes.
"I dunnot see," the girl was saying mentally, and with some distaste for her position, "what she wants wi' me."
But as she stared over the top of her parcel, she gradually softened. The child found Miss Ffrench well worth looking at.
"Eh!" she announced, with admiring candor. "Eh! but tha art han'some!"
"Am I?" said Rachel Ffrench. "Thank you."
"Aye," answered Janey, "tha art. I nivver seed no lady loike thee afore, let alone a young woman. I've said so mony a toime to Mester Murdoch."
"Have you?"