“If you walk it will last longer,” said the old woman, with just a suspicion of a smile. “Then, those two points being settled, have you brought anything to eat, in your pocket?”
“No—no, I didn’t wait for anything. I shan’t want anything to eat for days. I don’t feel like eating, and I don’t know when I ever shall.”
“And no blankets to sleep in?”
“Oh no, Goody, how could I?” said Garde.
“Let me see; it is something like forty or fifty miles to Plymouth,” Goody mused. “Have you thought how it would look if a young woman were seen, running night and day for sixty miles? You know many people walk from Plymouth here.”
“Yes,” said Garde, eagerly. “That is the only trouble. I want you to do something for me, or tell me what to do. Everybody would see a girl and if Grandther were told, he would have me caught and brought back—and I would rather die!”
Goody laughed at her now, more than half gaily. Her own eyes twinkled with delight over the venture. “What would be the good of all the things my friends have given me, all these years, if I did not use them at such a time as this?” she asked.
“Oh, have you got anything I could really use?” Garde responded. “What is it? What can you do? I mustn’t wait,—they will catch me, just as sure as the world!”
“Not if I make you invisible,” chucked Goody. She dived into a chest she had opened and began to paw, in an orderly manner, at a heap of clothing which the box contained. She presently drew forth a complete suit of clothing for a boy. “There,” she continued, “go into the next room and put those on, as fast as ever you are a mind to.”
“Those?” said the astonished Garde. “But these are——”