"Are you busy?" she said.
"Yes, madam, as busy as the nine o'clock batch usually makes me. Do you not hear the oven?"
"I do—'tis well."
"Ah, madam," said the dissembling cook, "it will be well, indeed, if you keep your word with me, and set me to-night at freedom."
"Do you doubt it?"
"I have no particular reason to doubt it, further than that the unfortunate are always inclined to doubt too good news. That is all, madam."
"If you doubt, you will be agreeably disappointed, for I shall keep my word with you. You have done for me much better than I ever expected, and I will be grateful to you now that you are going. I have said that you shall not go without means, and you shall have a purse of twenty guineas to help you on your way wherever you wish."
"How kind you are, madam! Ah, I shall be able now to forgive you for all that I have suffered in this place—and, after all, it has been a refuge from want."
"It has. No one can be better pleased than I am to find you view things so reasonably. Send up the nine o'clock batch; and then wait patiently until I come to you."
"I will."