Her face, plump, pleasant and rosy, had for its principal feature two merry, twinkling eyes, which sparkled with humour as she gazed upon me; and her hair, which was beginning to turn grey, was drawn tightly back and coiled in one large plait upon the crown. Altogether she was a very homely, approachable woman, who had seen, as I judged, some fifty summers, and I hailed her appearance with joy.
"Nay, to be sure!" she repeated; "are ye Lot's wife? or has t' lads, young monkeys, planted a snow man at my door? Here, bide a bit while I brush ye down, an' then come inside wi' ye."
I laughed, and submitted to the operation, vigorously performed in the street, and then followed my rescuer indoors.
All my explanations were greeted with the same expressive utterance. "To be sures" came as thickly as currants in a Yorkshire tea-cake. We were unknown to each other by sight—for I was now, I found, in Marsland Gap, with the valley between me and Windyridge—but my fame had preceded me.
"Well, to be sure! So you're t' young lady what takes fotygraphs up at Windyridge. Why, bless ye, I can show ye t' very house ye live in, an' t' glass place where I reckon ye take yer fotygraphs from this window in t' scullery. Nay, to be sure! it's that wild ye cannot see an arm's length. Well, well, let's hev yer wet things off, for ye're fair steamin' afore that fire."
I protested in vain. My hat and coat had already been removed, and now my hostess insisted that my dress skirt should be hung upon the clothes-horse to dry. Oh, Rose, Rose! what would you not have given to see me ten minutes later clad in a garment which was reasonable enough as to length, but which had to be pinned in a great overlapping fold half round my body? I looked at myself and roared, whilst the owner of the dress shook her sides with merriment. All the same, I had found the inn of the Good Samaritan, and my stay there did not even cost me the two pence of the story.
What do you think we had for tea? Muffins, toasted cheese, home-made jam and "spice cake"! I helped to "wash-up," and as the storm continued with unabated fury I resigned myself cheerfully to the snug rocking-chair and the glowing hearth. Thoughts of Mother Hubbard's anxiety worried me a little, but I hoped she would realise that I had found shelter.
"You have not told me your name yet," I began, when we were comfortably settled, I with my hands idle upon my lap, and she with a heap of "mending" upon her knee.
"Well, to be sure! so I haven't," she replied. "Maria Robertsha' 's my name, an' it's a name I'm noan ashamed on. Not but what I'd change it if someb'dy 'ud give me a better. It's all right livin' by yerself if ye can't 'elp it; an' to be sure, when ye live by yerself ye know what comp'ny ye keep; but them can 'ave it 'at likes for me."
"Then do you live here quite alone?" I inquired.