“She would bless you, Mrs. Winnie, as I should, for the very warmth of a fire. She has not felt the warmth of a fire this month or more, and she is half starved into the bargain.”
Mrs. Jennifer opened her eyes with indignation.
“What! not a stick of fire! Who be they who have the caring for her? And no victuals!”
“Then you will let me bring her here—if I can?”
“Dear heart, sir, yes. I’ll have my best blankets out, and make cakes and pasties. And perhaps she would like a nice young pullet, sir. We will put her in the parlor ingle-nook, and melt her heart, and give her stuff to make the color come.”
John Gore held out a hand.
“You do not know how I thank you for this. But there are my terms to be considered.”
“Oh, get along, sir.”
“I shall pass over to you three gold pieces a week.”
Mrs. Winnie looked ready to scoff and laugh.