"Why, child," said he, "what's your sorrow?"
At this she glanced up in sudden fear but, like his voice, the Major's grey eyes were gentle and very kindly; perceiving which she rose, the better to bob him a curtsey, and sobbed forth her woe:
"O sir, 'tis all along of another grand gentleman like you as took away my letter."
Forgetting fine clothes and dignity together, the Major sat down in the ditch, drew the small, woebegone figure beside him and patted her tear-stained cheek.
"Tell me all about it, you very small maid," said he. The little girl hesitated, viewing him with the quick, intuitive eyes of childhood then, checking her sobs, nestled within his velvet-clad arm.
"'Twas a letter, sir, as was gave me by a dirty man as did meet me by the old mill, sir."
"You mean the ruined mill beyond the park wall, child?"
"Yes, please sir."
"And a dirty fellow, was he?"
"Yes sir, only with a clean voice—soft, like yours. And he give me a groat and says I must take the letter to the Lady Carlyon as lives at Densmere Court——"