“My word! To hide!” said Mary Hogg. She really quite interested at last. She forgot the awful Mrs Gaskell and all the terrors that punctuality caused in the St. Just establishment. Her eyes became round as the letter “O,” and her mouth formed itself into much the same shape.
“You be a bad ’un!” she said. “So you’ve run away?”
“Yes, I have. I haven’t time to tell you my story, but I want to stay at Souchester just for a little! you must help me, for I wouldn’t have come to Souchester but for you.”
“There now; didn’t I say you were bad? What in the name of wonder have I to do with it?”
“I was going in quite another direction, and I heard you ask for a ticket to Souchester, and I thought I’d come too, and I got into the same carriage with you because I thought you looked kind and—and respectable. I’ve got some money,” continued Nesta, speaking with sudden dignity. “I’m not a beggar, but I want to go to a very cheap place just to spend the night. Do you know of any place? It won’t do you any harm to tell me if there’s anybody in the village who would give me a bed.”
“But, do you mean a very, very cheap place?” asked Mary Hogg, who thought on the spot that she might do a good deal for her mother. Mrs Hogg was so poor that she was glad even of stray sixpences and pence.
“I don’t mind how poor it is, if it is only cheap; that is what I want—something very cheap.”
“There’s mother’s house. Would you mind going there?”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Where is it?”
“I must be quick; I really must. You had better come a little way up the hill with me, and I’ll tell you. It’s rather steep, but there, I’ll go a little slower. I’ll tell Mrs Gaskell that I met a fellow creature in distress. She’s a very Christian woman, is Mrs Gaskell, and that, perhaps, will make her more inclined to be lenient with me. I’ll tell her that.”