"I--I've got half-a-crown in my purse. I'll give you that," said
Huldah, gently. "It's all I have now, but it will get you a bed and
some food."
Mrs. Perry came towards them. "Huldah," she said, kindly, "if your--
if Mrs. Smith will come in and rest, I'll make her a cup of tea.
She looks fit to drop."
The poor tramp turned to her gratefully. "I feels like it too.
I haven't tasted anything since yesterday," she added, feebly; and,
now that the eagerness and excitement had died out of her face, she
looked almost like a dying woman.
They led the way into the cottage, and gave her the most comfortable
chair. She dropped into it with almost a groan of relief, and then,
as though the kindness overcame her, she began to weep weakly.
"I couldn't help coming to Huldah," she sobbed. "I couldn't keep
away. I haven't a friend or relation in the world but her, nor
nowhere to go,--but the workhouse, and I can't go there. I'd rather
die under a hedge. I've always been so used to the open, and my
freedom, and I couldn't bear it. But I haven't got a penny, nor no
means of getting one. Whatever I'm going to do I don't know.
Tom's put away for three years, and I shan't ever live to see him
come out, I know,--but nobody cares! It don't matter to nobody
whether I'm alive or dead.
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