CHAPTER XI LITTLE PROVIDENCES
Never—never to their dying day—did Christian and Rose enjoy anything so much as their comfortable seat by the carpenter's fire, and the hot, strong tea which the carpenter's mother gave them. She informed them that her name was Morris, that her son was called John Morris, and that they were both thoroughly respectable.
"You have had such a queer adventure that maybe you won't know just for a bit who is respectable and who is not; but me and John is. Aren't we, John?"
"Strikes me you are about right, mother," said John Morris; and then he sat down and stared at the two children.
"It is too wonderful," he kept saying; and when he said this he began to ruffle up his thick hair and to rub his forehead.
"What is wonderful?" said Christian at last. "Do you greatly mind, Mrs. Morris? but if your son wouldn't stare so very hard, Rosy and I would like it better."
"Oh, 'taint at you he's looking," said Mrs. Morris. "Don't you fash yourself, my dear."
"But he is looking first at Rose and then at me," said Christian. "Aren't you, Morris?" she added, turning to the tall young man.