“They were bad people,” said she, “and I did not like them, but they were my only acquaintance in the wide world.”
CHAPTER V.—ISOPEL BERNERS: A TALL GIRL OF EIGHTEEN, AND HER STORY.
In the evening of that same day the tall girl and I sat at tea by the fire, at the bottom of the dingle; the girl on a small stool, and myself, as usual, upon my stone.
The water which served for the tea had been taken from a spring of pellucid water in the neighbourhood, which I had not had the good fortune to discover, though it was well known to my companion, and to the wandering people who frequented the dingle.
“This tea is very good,” said I, “but I cannot enjoy it as much as if I were well: I feel very sadly.”
“How else should you feel,” said the girl, “after fighting with the Flaming Tinman? All I wonder is that you can feel at all! As for the tea, it ought to be good, seeing that it cost me ten shillings a pound.”
“That’s a great deal for a person in your station to pay.”
“In my station! I’d have you to know, young man—however, I haven’t the heart to quarrel with you, you look so ill; and after all, it is a good sum to pay for one who travels the roads; but if I must have tea, I like to have the best; and tea I must have, for I am used to it, though I can’t help thinking that it sometimes fills my head with strange fancies—what some folks call vapours, making me weep and cry!”
“Dear me,” said I, “I should never have thought that one of your size and fierceness would weep and cry!”
“My size and fierceness! I tell you what, young man, you are not over civil, this evening; but you are ill, as I said before, and I shan’t take much notice of your language, at least for the present; as for my size, I am not so much bigger than yourself; and as for being fierce, you should be the last one to fling that at me. It is well for you that I can be fierce sometimes. If I hadn’t taken your part against Blazing Bosville, you wouldn’t be now taking tea with me.”