’Gainst the merest rude speech would defend her
So well was the poor woman loved.
And right many’s the maid, who, bewailing her woe,
Has told Rachel the slight that distressed her,
Only soon to trip on with a happier look,
While the silly goose inwardly blessed her,
For her comforting words and advice.
Then the urchins have gone to her, covered with mud,
Afraid to go home—perhaps crying—
But old Rachel (the remedy) washed out the stains,