"No, child. I feel much more inclined for a cup of tea. If you've got any fire in I'd like a slice of toast, but if you haven't I'll have a piece of dry bread. I dare say you'd like one of the little apple pasties Mrs. Maddock brought over."
Mrs. Maddock was the wife of the farmer who lived a little way from them, along the road to the four turnings.
"Yes, I would," said Jessie, "I am hungry."
"I don't wonder," said her grandmother, smiling, "working as you have been. Why, there won't be anything left for me to do when I get up. Is the kettle nearly boiling?"
"Yes," said Jessie, "it is singing. I'll have to step over to Mrs.
Maddock's for the milk, and by the time I come back it will be ready.
Will you be all right, granny, while I'm gone? I won't be away more
than five minutes."
"Yes, I shall be all right, child; I'll promise not to run away, and
I don't suppose any burglar will break in here," she laughed gently.
"Well, I could soon catch you, if you did," laughed Jessie, "but I don't know about a burglar, I would have to run to Mrs. Maddock's again and borrow their dog. Good-bye, granny."
"Put on your hat and coat," granny called after her.
"Oh, need I?" asked Jessie, with just a shade of impatience in her voice.
"Why, yes, child, it is quite chilly, and you have been so hot over your work."