"There's
rain in this wind--come! I knows a fair, likely place--"
"No, no!" cried I. "Please leave me, I shall be very well here--the
rain will do me good, perhaps--besides, I have no money to pay for a
night's lodging--"
"But I have!"
"No matter, I cannot live on your money."
"Aye, but you can, for this money is yourn as much as mine, seeing as
I prigs it."
"What do you mean?"
"Lord, what should I mean except as I takes it, nabs it--steals it
from yon dirty beast while he struggled wi' me. Look!" And taking out
a ragged belcher neckerchief she unknotted one corner and showed me
three bright, new guineas.
"Ah, throw them away!" I cried. "The man was so vile--"
"He was!" she nodded. "But his money is clean enough and will be
useful to us--"
"But you are--a thief!" I exclaimed, aghast.
"And you are a fool!" she retorted, thrusting the money into a small
leathern bag she carried at her girdle. "And he was a dirty rogue and
his money shall feed us until I can earn more. And now let us hurry
afore the storm ketches us."
"Where to?"
"There's a place I know where we can be warm and sheltered and nothing
to pay."
And so, because of her persistence and my sickness, I suffered her to
lead me where she would, though more than once I tripped and should
have fallen but for her ready arm. Presently turning out of the road
we came to a meadow and here, half-blinded by the pain of my head and
scarcely able to drag one foot after the other, I earnestly besought
her to leave me, storm or no storm; to which she merely bade me not to
be a fool, with the further assurance that she would leave me when she
wished and not before.
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