“Yes, we will send you.”
“And I will take Fanny Burton with me. You will send her, too, won’t you?”
“Yes, yes! hands up. There! we all agree.”
“I don’t know whether it will be better to have a man or two in the deputation.”
“No, no! You go and settle everything for us. You don’t want no man. I won’t say that they haven’t their rights, but they’re poor fish whenever there’s anything got to be done. You go, Basket Woman?”
“But you must all tell me this! Will you abide by what I settle for you? Do you trust me enough for that?”
They looked at her, and then at one another, and then back again at her; and next a man took his pipe from his mouth, and clearing his throat, delivered himself of the following sentences:—“I ain’t no speaker, I ain’t, but I say for one as I’d trust that there Basket Lady any lengths. She’s the best friend we’ve ever had in this ’ere Grove, and she knows us, and what we like, and what we won’t stand; and she won’t prove no sneak, I’ll lay my life on that. This Grove ain’t been the same place since she come round a-basketing; nor our homes ain’t been the same neither, and we’ve most of us fell in love with our old women over again, all through her; and I say, here’s our duty to her, and what she says is right as between Mr. Knight and us, I’ll stand by.”
“Hear! hear! So we will all. Hooray for the Basket Lady!” said another, and a hearty cheer was raised, in which both men and women joined.
For a moment or two the recipient of all this public honour could not speak. Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. It was a grand time for her; how grand only those can know who stake their happiness and very life on the good of others. Two lines of a hymn rang through her soul—
Oh, happy if ye labour,