“Those as are going into foring parts,” she said, “ought to get a good English meal afore they start.  If you was going to stay in England, miss, it would be quite a differing thing; but me and my master don’t know what they may give you to eat where you’re going to.  Therefore we beg you’ll accept of the crumpets, and the shrimps, and the bread-and-butter, and the tea, and every thing; and we mean no offence by it.  You’ve been a very quiet, regular lodger, and give no trouble; and we’re sorry to lose you.  And this, my master says, is a testimonial to you.”

I could hardly control my laughter, and I could not keep back my tears.  It was a long time now since any one had shown me so much kindness and sympathy as this.  The dull face of the good woman was brightened by her kind-hearted feeling, and instead of thanking her I put my lips to her cheek.

“Lor!” she exclaimed, “why!  God bless you, my dear!  I didn’t mean any offence, you know.  Lor!  I never thought you’d pay me like that.  It’s very pretty of you, it is; for I’m sure you’re a lady to the backbone, as often and often I’ve said to my master.  Be good enough to eat it all, you and the little miss, for you’ve a long journey before you.  God bless you both, my dears, and give you a good appetite!”

She backed out of the room as she was speaking, her face beaming upon us to the last.

There was a pleasant drollery about her conduct, and about the intense delight of the child, and her hearty enjoyment of the feast, which for the time effectually dissipated my fears and my melancholy thoughts.  It was the last hour I should spend in my solitary room; my lonely days were past.  This little elf, with her large sharp eyes, and sagacious womanly face, was to be my companion for the future.  I felt closely drawn to her.  Even the hungry appetite with which she ate spoke of the hard times she had gone through.  When she had eaten all she could eat, I heard her say softly to herself, “Courage, Minima!”

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

A LONG JOURNEY.

It as little more than twelve months since I had started from the same station on the same route; but there was no Tardif at hand now.  As I went into the ticket-office, Minima caught me by the dress and whispered earnestly into my ear.

“We’re not to travel first-class,” she said; “it costs too much.  Mrs. Wilkinson said we ought to go third, if we could; and you’re to pay for me, please, only half-price, and they’ll pay you again when we reach the school.  I’ll come with you, and then they’ll see I’m only half-price.  I don’t look too old, do I?”

“You look very old,” I answered, smiling at her anxious face.

“Oh, dear, dear!” she said; “but I sit very small.  Perhaps I’d better not come to the ticket-office; the porters are sure to think me only a little girl.”

She was uneasy until we had fairly started from the station, her right to a half-ticket unchallenged.