"But I promised my mother."
"Go, then, but you see one fine day you'll be sorry yer didn't take what I offered yer p'raps."
"You are very kind and I shall always remember you."
When they reached Creil, La Rouquerie hunted up her friend, the farmer, and asked him to give Perrine a lift in his cart as far as Amiens. He was quite willing, and for one whole day Perrine enjoyed the comfort of lying stretched out on the straw, behind two good trotting horses. At Essentaux she slept in a barn.
The next day was Sunday, and she was up bright and early and quickly made her way to the railway station. Handing her five francs to the ticket seller she asked for a ticket to Picquigny. This time she had the satisfaction of seeing that her five francs was accepted. She received her ticket and seventy-five cents in change.
It was 12 o'clock when the train pulled in at the station at Picquigny. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, the air was soft and warm, far different from the scorching heat which had prostrated her in the woods, and she ... how unlike she was from that miserable little girl who had fallen by the wayside. And she was clean, too. During the days she had spent with La Rouquerie she had been able to mend her waist and her skirt, and had washed her linen and shined her shoes. Her past experience was a lesson: she must never give up hope at the darkest moment; she must always remember that there was a silver cloud, if she would only persevere.
She had a long walk after she got out of the train at Picquigny. But she walked along lightly past the meadows bordered with poplars and limes, past the river where the villagers in their Sunday clothes were fishing, past the windmills which, despite the fact that the day was calm, were slowly moving round, blown by the breeze from the sea which could be felt even there.
She walked through the pretty village of St. Pipoy, with its red roofs and quaint church, and over the railway tracks which unites the towns wherein Vulfran Paindavoine has his factories, and which joins the main line to Boulogne.
As Perrine passed the pretty church the people were coming out from mass. Listening to them as they talked in groups she heard again the sing-song manner of talking that her father had often imitated so as to amuse her.
On the country road she saw a young girl walking slowly ahead of her carrying a very heavy basket on her arm.