"Oh, no," she replied with a shake of her head on its sinuous neck; "for I must be collecting my things before I move on towards—"
"Towards Otchenchiri"
"Yes. By now my folk will have gone many a verst in that direction."
"And can you walk so far?"
"The Holy Mother will help me."
Yes, she was to journey in the company of the Mother of God. So no more on the point required to be said.
Glancing again at the tiny, inchoate face under the bushes, her eyes diffused rays of warm and kindly light as, licking her lips, she, with a slow movement, smoothed the breast of the little one.
Then I arranged sticks for a fire, and also adjusted stones to support the kettle.
"Soon I will have tea ready for you," I remarked.
"And thankful indeed I shall be," she responded, "for my breasts are dried up."