"Well, I can't give you a bed here. I've only this room and my bedroom, and--and--" Mrs. Perry did not like to explain that she was too nervous, and too doubtful of Huldah's honesty to leave her alone in the kitchen, while she herself went to bed and to sleep. To her mind all gipsies, and all gipsy children, were thieves, and though she was interested in Huldah, and felt very sorry for her, she had, after all, only known her about an hour, and knew nothing of her past history. In her heart she could not as yet believe all her story, or bring herself to trust her. The child instinctively felt something of this distrust, and it hurt her. Her eyes filled, but she forced back the tears, and spoke out bravely. "I shall do all right, thank you, ma'am. We'll be going on again, now. I ain't afraid of nothing when I've got Dick with me, and--and thank you, ma'am, for all you've given us; but I wish you'd 'ave one of my baskets, ma'am, please! I can easy make another, and I'd be glad if you would, please, ma'am." Mrs. Perry felt a prick of conscience, and her heart melted. She could see that the child's feelings were hurt, and that her self-respect made her anxious to pay for all they had received. "If you wouldn't mind sleeping in the barn in the garden, you and your dog, you're welcome. It's as clean as can be, and there's plenty of nice straw there, to make a comfortable bed for you. You'd be under shelter there, and if so be as your uncle should come this way, he'd never find you there." Instead of conferring a favour, she found herself almost asking the child to stay, and to Huldah the temptation was too great to be resisted. To be safe from her uncle! She felt she could bear anything, if she could only for a few hours feel quite safe. She was so tired, too, so dead-tired, she did not know, in spite of her brave words, how she could possibly drag her weary body a step further. A few moments later the front-door had been securely bolted, and Mrs. Perry, lantern in hand, was conducting her two strange visitors out of the back door and down the garden. "That's the fowls' house," she explained, flashing her lantern over the door of the little building as they passed it, "and here is the barn." She opened the door, and threw the lantern light all over the wooden shed. It was spotlessly clean, and sweet with the smell of the straw which was scattered about one end of it. There were some bundles and some loose straw lying on the ground. Huldah sank down on one of the bundles with a little cry of relief, while Dick burrowed delightedly in the loose straw. "You won't be afraid, you think?" "No, ma'am, thank you, not with Dick," she answered, bravely.