“Yes, that’s what you do want, isn’t it, Paulie?” said Nancy.
Pauline nodded. She felt almost incapable of speaking. So the farmer brought her food, and made her eat and drink. And then she went upstairs with Nancy, and Nancy made her he down by her side, and when they were both together in the dark, in the warm bed in the pretty room, Pauline flung her arms round Nancy and began to cry. It was really quite a long time since Pauline had cried. At first her tears came slowly and with great difficulty; but in a little they rained from her eyes more and more easily, until at last they came in torrents, and her tears hurt her and shook her little frame, and came faster, and yet faster, until from sheer exhaustion she dropped asleep. But when Pauline woke from that sleep it seemed to her that the numb part had greatly left her brain and that she could think clearly. Only, still she had no wish to go back to The Dales. She only wanted to wash and be clean.
“You are the queerest girl that ever lived,” said Nancy. “You come right downstairs and have breakfast. Of course, they are sure to look for you and try to find you, but you must come straight downstairs now and hear what father has got to say.”
Pauline got up willingly enough and went downstairs. There was a groaning breakfast on the board. On most occasions the farmers’ servants ate below the salt, but now only the farmer and his daughter Nancy were present.
“Here’s cake worth eating,” said the farmer, “and new-laid eggs worth taking; and here’s honey the like of which is not to be found anywhere else, even in the New Forest. And here’s chicken rissoles, and here’s cooked ham. Now, missy, fall to—fall to.”
Pauline ate very little, and then she turned to the farmer.
“And now you want me to help you?” he said.
“I want you to take me to the seaside. I want Nancy to come, too. I want to go where the waves are high, and where I can wash and be clean.”
“My word!” said the farmer, “what does the little lass say?”
“I don’t want to go home. I can’t go home. If I am alone with you and with Nancy I might get better. Don’t let me go home.”