"And very sorry I was," said the lady of the caravan, "to see you in
company with a Punch--a low practical, wulgar wretch, that people should
scorn to look at."
"I was not there by choice," rejoined the child; "we didn't know our
way, and the two men were very kind to us, and let us travel with them.
Do you--do you know them, ma'am?"
"Know 'em, child!" cried the lady of the caravan in a sort of shriek.
"Know them! But you're young and inexperienced, and that's your excuse
for asking sich a question. Do I look as if I know'd them? Does this
caravan look as if it know'd 'em?"
"No, ma'am, no," said the child, fearing that she had committed some
grievous fault, "I beg your pardon."
It was granted immediately, and the child then explained that they had
left the races on the first day, and were travelling to the next town,
and ventured to inquire how far it was. The stout lady's reply was
rather discouraging, and Nell could scarcely repress a tear at hearing
that it was eight miles off. Her grandfather made no complaint, and the
two were about to pass on, when the lady of the caravan called to the
child to return. Beckoning to her to ascend the steps, she asked,--"Are
you hungry?"
"Not very, but we are tired, and it's--it is a long way."
"Well, hungry or not, you had better have some tea," rejoined her new
acquaintance. "I suppose you're agreeable to that, old gentleman?"
The grandfather humbly pulled off his hat, and thanked her, and sitting
down, they made a hearty meal, enjoying it to the utmost.
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