“O do ye an’ arl!” exclaimed the old woman fiercely. “This be my own cottage till they turn me out an’ then——”
“Turn you out?”
“Aye, in two or three wiks!”
“You hear, sir; you hear?”
“I do!” answered Sir John.
“And when you are homeless, Penelope, what shall you do?”
“Walk an’ tramp ’till I caan’t go no further, an’ then find a quiet corner to die in——”
“Nay, that you shall not!” cried my lady passionately. “I will take ye—you shall come to me, I will adopt you——”
“Eh—eh!” gasped old Penelope, and very nearly dropped her cherished Chinese teapot.