"Lady Carlyon!" exclaimed the Major staring. "Good Lord! 'Tis strange, very strange. Sure that was the name, child?"
"Sure, sir—the man did say it over and over and how I must give it to only her. So I went 'long the road, sir, but a grand gentleman came up behind me—so fine he was and grand and asked to see the letter and took it and says as how he will give it to my lady and bid me run away and that's all, sir."
"Well, never grieve, my small maid. You've done no harm—come let me dry those pretty cheeks," which the Major with belaced handkerchief did forthwith. "What's your name, child?" he enquired, lifting her to her feet.
"Charity Bent, sir."
"'Tis a pretty name. Many brothers and sisters?"
"No, sir. I do be all father's got to take care o' him."
"So you take care of him, do you, child?"
"When he be at home, sir, he do work at the great house."
"Which is that?"
"The Manor, sir. And now I must go an' cook his supper, he'll be along home soon."