“You shall come to me, Penelope,” repeated my lady, taking the teapot from her tremulous fingers. “I shall adopt you—nay, my dear soul, never doubt me, I mean it every word!”
“But ... but,” stammered old Penelope, “they call me a witch! They ... they——”
“Devil take ’em!” exclaimed my lady. “I will care for thee, Penelope! Shalt find peace and comfort at last, thou brave soul!” And here, seeing the old creature’s pitiful amaze, my lady stooped suddenly and pressed warm lips on her wrinkled brow.
“Lord God!” exclaimed old Penelope, and sinking into the elbow-chair, hid her face in her toil-worn hands. And presently she spoke in voice harsh and broken, “There be nobody ... has kissed me ... since my dyin’ mother, long an’ long ago!”
“My dear soul!” said my lady, and Sir John saw her eyes suddenly brim with tears. “My dear soul, there is a woman shall kiss away thy sorrows if she may.... For to-day, Penelope, thou hast found a friend and I a—a fairy godmother! Let me kiss thee again, godmother!”
Slowly old Penelope raised her head to look into the face bowed above her.
“Happen I be dreamin’,” she sighed, “an’ shall wake by an’ by—but, O child, it be good to dream—sometimes.”
CHAPTER XXIX
GIVETH SOME DESCRIPTIONS OF A TEA-DRINKING
“’Tis most excellent tea!” quoth my lady. “I vow I have never drank better!”