[Illustration:  They came up with A poor Irishwoman.]

On they went; and Tom looked, and looked, for he never had been so far into the country before; and longed to get over a gate, and pick buttercups, and look for birds’ nests in the hedge; but Mr. Grimes was a man of business, and would not have heard of that.

Soon they came up with a poor Irishwoman, trudging along with a bundle at her back.  She had a gray shawl over her head, and a crimson madder petticoat; so you may be sure she came from Galway. [Footnote:  Galway is a county in the western part of Ireland.  The dress here described was the characteristic dress of the peasants of that county.] She had neither shoes nor stockings, and limped along as if she were tired and footsore; but she was a very tall, handsome woman, with bright gray eyes, and heavy black hair hanging about her cheeks.  And she took Mr. Grimes’ fancy so much, that when he came alongside he called out to her: 

“This is a hard road for a gradely [Footnote:  Gradely, or GRAITHLY, is an old word which meant Decent or comely.] foot like that.  Will ye up, lass, and ride behind me?”

But, perhaps she did not admire Mr. Grimes’ look and voice; for she answered quietly: 

“No, thank you; I’d sooner walk with your little lad here.”

“You may please yourself,” growled Grimes, and went on smoking.

So she walked beside Tom, and talked to him, and asked him where he lived, and what he knew, and all about himself, till Tom thought he had never met such a pleasant-spoken woman.  And she asked him, at last, whether he said his prayers! and seemed sad when he told her that he knew no prayers to say.

Then he asked her where she lived, and she said far away by the sea.  And Tom asked her about the sea; and she told him how it rolled and roared over the rocks in winter nights, and lay still in the bright summer days, for the children to bathe and play in it; and many a story more, till Tom longed to go and see the sea, and bathe in it likewise.

At last, at the bottom of a hill, they came to a spring; a real North country fountain, like one of those in Sicily or Greece, where the old heathen fancied the nymphs [Footnote:  The nymphs, according to the ancient Greeks, were divinities in the shape of beautiful maidens, who lived in the woods or in springs and streams.] sat cooling themselves the hot summer’s day, while the shepherds peeped at them from behind the bushes.  Out of a low cave of rock, at the foot of a limestone crag, the great fountain rose, quelling, and bubbling, and gurgling, so clear that you could not tell where the water ended and the air began; and ran away under the road, a stream large enough to turn a mill; among blue geranium, and golden globeflower, and wild raspberry, and the bird cherry with its tassels of snow. [Footnote:  These are English flowers, but you probably know some of them.  The wild geranium, for instance, with its pinkish-purple flowers, is common in our woods.  The globeflower is of rather a pale yellow, and its petals curl in so that it looks like a ball.]