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Boy thanked her very gratefully, for he really did not care for the long walk through the woods by himself.
The old woman gave her husband a poke with her stick, and pointed to the cottage which Boy could see in the distance; and the old man nodded his head, and led the way with the bundle of sticks on his shoulder, while Boy and the old lady followed behind.
“What a beautiful old house!” exclaimed Boy, when they reached the cottage; for it was indeed a lovely place, quite overgrown with climbing roses, which were just then in full bloom. There were nice old-fashioned, latticed windows with pretty white curtains and quaint twisted chimneys above the roof, and altogether it was a charming old place.
“Why, it must be a great deal too big for you and your husband, surely,” said Boy, as they entered the wicket gate which led into the little garden before the cottage.
“Oh, it doesn’t belong to us,” explained the woman; “it was the late King of Zum’s Hunting Lodge, and we live here rent free as caretakers. We have the kitchen and two small rooms, and the rest of the house has been occupied this last five years or more by gentlefolks,” said the old woman dropping her voice to a whisper and looking up nervously at the upper windows. “But come you in and have some supper; that is, if you don’t mind having it with us,” and the kind old soul led the way to the kitchen, which was scrupulously clean, and Boy sat down on a little three-legged stool while she made some milk hot in a caldron over the wood fire which was alight on the old-fashioned hearth.
Presently a bell rang and the old woman asked Boy to watch that the milk didn’t boil over while she went upstairs to wait on the gentlefolks.
She came down a minute or two afterwards with a piece of paper which she handed to Boy.