When the little service was over, the people went away, and Mr. Westerdale, Mother Manikin, and Rosalie sat together over the fire talking. The old man was much encouraged by all that he heard from the child. He had sometimes wondered whether his visits to the fair had done the slightest good to any one, and now that he heard how God had so largely blessed this one picture, he felt strengthened and cheered to make further efforts for the benefit of the poor travellers whose souls so few care for. Next Sunday would be the Sunday for him to visit the shows, he said, and he should go there this year with more hope and more faith.
When Rosalie heard this, she begged him to have a little conversation with the woman with whom she had travelled. She told him to look out for the show over the door of which was written, 'Lord Fatimore and other Pleasing Varieties,' for there, she felt sure, he would find a work to do. And she did not forget to ask him, when he went there, to remember to inquire for Jinx, and to speak to him also.
When Mr. Westerdale had said good-night and was gone away, Mother Manikin insisted on Rosalie's going at once to bed, for the child was very weary with her long and tiring day.
She slept very soundly, and in the morning awoke to find Mother Manikin standing beside her with a cup of tea in her hands.
'Come, child,' she said, 'drink this before you get up.'
'Oh, dear Mother Manikin,' said Rosalie, starting up, how good you are to me!'
'Bless you, child!' said the dear little old woman; 'I only wish you could stay with me altogether. Now mind me, child, if you find, when you get to Melton, that it isn't convenient for you to stay at your aunt's, just you come back to me. Dear me! how comfortable you and me might be together! I'm lonesome at times here, and want a bit of company, and my little bit of money is enough for both of us. So mind you, child,' repeated Mother Manikin, shaking her little fist at Rosalie, 'if you don't find all quite straight at Melton, if you think it puts them out at all to take you in, you come to me. Now I've said it, and when I've said it I mean it; old age must have its liberties, and I must be obeyed.'
'Dear Mother Manikin,' said Rosalie, putting her arms round the little old woman's neck, 'I can never, never, never say thank you often enough.'
After breakfast Rosalie started on her journey, with the little black kit in its usual place in her arms. Mother Manikin insisted on wrapping up a little parcel, containing lunch, for the child to eat on her way. And as she stood on the doorstep to see her off, she called out after her—
'Now, child, if all isn't quite straight, come back here to-night; I shall be looking out for you.'