'No,' said the child wearily; 'I shall have to ask, I suppose. How far is
Pendleton from here, Betsey Ann? Do you know?'
'Yes,' said Betsey Ann; 'there was a woman in the workhouse came from there. She often told us of how she walked the distance on a cold, snowy day; it's fourteen or fifteen miles, I think.'
'Well, that's the town,' said Rosalie, 'where the old man gave me my picture; and it was the first village we passed through after that where my Aunt Lucy lived. Melton must be about five miles farther than Pendleton.'
'Oh, Rosalie,' said Betsey Ann, 'that's near upon twenty miles! You'll never be able to walk all that way!'
'Oh yes,' said the child; 'I must try; because if once I get there—oh,
Betsey Ann, just think—if once I get there, to my own dear Aunt Lucy!'
But Betsey Ann buried her face in her hands and began to sob.
'La, bless you, it's all right!' she said, as Rosalie tried to comfort her; 'you'll be happy there, and it will be all right. But, oh dear me! to think I've got to stay here without you!'
'Poor Betsey Ann!' said the child, as she laid her little hand on the girl's rough hair; 'what can I do?'
'Oh, I know it's all right, Rosalie; it's better than seeing you go to the workhouse; but I didn't think it would come so soon. Can't you tell the Good Shepherd, Rosalie, and ask Him to look after me a bit, when you're gone?'
'Yes, dear,' said the child; 'let us tell Him now.'