“I hear,” said Isaac, smiling, as he thawed to her good-humour. “I wish you a pleasant journey, Mrs. Pain.”
“Merci bien. Good-bye.”
The church clock boomed out five as Charlotte passed it, and she came to a standstill of consideration. It was the hour at which she had ordered dinner to be ready.
“Bother dinner!” decided she. “I can’t go home for that. I want to see if they are in their lodgings yet. Is that you, Mrs. Bond?”
Sure enough, Mrs. Bond had come into view, and was halting to bob down to Charlotte. Her face looked pale and pinched. There had been no supply of strong waters to-day.
“I be a’most starving, ma’am. I’m waiting here to catch the parson, for I’ve been to his house, and they say he’s out. I dun know as it’s of any good seeing him, either. ’Tain’t much he has to give away now.”
“I am about to leave, Mrs. Bond,” cried Charlotte in her free and communicative humour.
“More’s the ill-luck, and I have heered on’t,” responded Mrs. Bond. “Everybody as is good to us poor goes away, or dies, or fails, or sum’at. There’ll soon be nought left for us but the work’us. Many’s the odd bit o’ silver you have given me at times, ma’am.”
“So I have,” said Charlotte, laughing. “What if I were to give you this, as a farewell remembrance?”
She took a half-sovereign out of her purse, and held it up. Mrs. Bond gasped: the luck seemed too great to be realized.