“No, thank you, I’m going with mama.”
“Oh, yes, certainly; but won’t you tell me your name?”
“My name is Lady Jane,” she replied gravely.
“Lady Jane? Well, I declare, that just suits you, for you are a little lady, and no mistake. Aren’t you tired, and warm?”
“I’m very hungry; I want my supper,” said the child frankly.
Madame winced, remembering her empty cupboard, but went on chatting cheerfully to pass away the time.
Presently the whistle of the approaching ferryboat sounded; the mother put on her bonnet, and the child took the bag in one hand, and the basket in the other. “Come, mama, let us go,” she cried eagerly.
“Dear, dear,” said madame, solicitously, “but you look so white and sick. I’m afraid you can’t get to the ferry even with me to help you. I wish my Raste was here; he’s so strong, he could carry you if you gave out.”
“I think I can walk; I’ll try,” and the poor woman staggered to her feet, only to fall back into Madame Jozain’s arms in a dead faint.