"And how old are you now?"
Mary Ann looked confused. "I don't quite know," she murmured.
"Oh, come," said Lancelot laughingly; "is this your country simplicity? You're quite young enough to tell how old you are."
The tears came into Mary Ann's eyes.
"I can't, Mr. Lancelot," she protested earnestly; "I forgot to count—I'll ask missus."
"And whatever she tells you, you'll be," he said, amused at her unshakable loyalty.
"Yessir," said Mary Ann.
"And so you are quite alone in the world?"
"Yessir—but I've got my canary. They sold everything when my father died, but the vicar's wife she bought my canary back for me because I cried so. And I brought it to London and it hangs in my bedroom. And the vicar, he was so kind to me, he did give me a lot of advice, and Mrs. Amersham, who kept the chandler's shop, she did give me ninepence, all in threepenny bits."
"And you never had any brothers or sisters?"