“Pray do, Mistress Halliburt; Susan knows what we require. And you have brought your little girl with you; I heard her light footstep as she tripped by your side. I should like to talk to her while you go in. Come here, my dear,” she said, as the dame went round to the back entrance; “I have heard of you, though I forget your name; what is it?”
“My name is Maiden May, please, Miss Mary; and I have heard of you and how kind you are to the poor; and I love you very much,” answered the little girl, looking up naïvely at the blind lady’s face.
“Your name is a pretty one,” said Miss Mary, a smile lighting up her countenance as she spoke, produced by the child’s remark. “Why are you called Maiden May?”
“Father called me so when he found me a long time ago,” answered May.
“When he found you, my child, what do you mean?” asked Miss Mary, with surprise.
“When I came in the big ship with my ayah, and was wrecked among the fierce waves,” answered May.
“I do not clearly understand you. Is not Dame Halliburt your mother?”
“Oh, yes, and I love her and father and Jacob and the rest so much,” said May. “I have no other mother.”
“Is your mother’s name Halliburt?”
“Yes.”