The lady of the caravan was about to gather her tea-things together, but noting the child’s look, she stopped. Nell curtsied, thanked her, and giving her hand to the old man, had already got some fifty yards or so away, when the lady of the caravan called to her to return. "Come nearer, nearer still," said she. "Are you hungry, child?" "Not very; but we are tired, and it’s—it _is_ a long way—" "Well, hungry or not, you had better have some tea," said the lady.—"I suppose you are agreeable to that, old gentleman?" The grandfather humbly pulled off his hat, and thanked her. The lady of the caravan then bade him come up the steps also; but the drum proving an unsuitable table for two, they came down again, and sat upon the grass. The lady then handed down to them the tea-tray, the bread-and-butter, and the ham. "Set ’em out near the hind wheels, child—that’s the best place," said their friend from above. "Now, hand up the teapot for a little more hot water and a pinch of fresh tea, and then both of you eat and drink as much as you can, and don’t spare anything; that’s all I ask of you." While they were eating, the lady of the caravan came down the steps, and with her hands clasped behind her, walked up and down in a very stately manner. She looked at the caravan from time to time with an air of calm delight, and seemed to be much pleased with the red panels and the brass knocker. When she had taken this exercise for some time, she sat down upon the steps and called "George," whereupon a man in a carter’s frock, who had been hidden in a hedge up to this time, parted the twigs and looked out. He was seated on the ground, and had on his legs a baking-dish and a stone bottle, in his right hand a knife, and in his left a fork. "Yes, missus," said George. "How did you find the cold pie, George?" "It warn’t amiss, mum." "We are not a heavy load, George? "That’s always what the ladies say," replied the man. "If you see a woman a-driving, you’ll always see she never will keep her whip still; the horse can’t go fast enough for her. If horses have got their proper load, a woman always thinks that they can bear something more. What is the cause of this here?" "Would these two travellers make much difference to the horses if we took them with us?" asked his mistress, pointing to Nell and the old man, who were now ready to go on their way on foot. "They’d make a difference, in course," said George slowly. "Would they make _much_ difference?" repeated his mistress. "They can’t be very heavy." "The weight o’ the pair, mum," said George, eyeing them carefully, "would be a trifle under that of Oliver Cromwell." Nell was very much surprised that the man should know the weight of one whom she had read of in books as having lived long before their time; but she soon forgot the subject in the joy of hearing that they were to go forward in the caravan, for which she thanked its lady earnestly.