"You _be_ a girl!" responded the man. He shambled on again in front, and presently they came in sight of the deserted hermit's hut, where Polly and Maggie a few weeks before had been led captive. A woman was standing in the doorway, and by her side, sitting up on their haunches, were two ugly, lean-looking dogs. "Down, Cinder and Flinder!" said the woman. "Down you brutes! Now, Patrick, what have you been up to? Whatever's that in your arms, and who's a-follering of yer?" "This yer's a babby," said the man, "and this yer's a girl. She," pointing to Flower, "wants to be took to the nearest town, and she have money to pay, she says." "Oh! she have money to pay?" said the wife of Micah Jones--for it was she. "Them as has money to pay is oilers and oilers welcome. Come in, and set you down by the fire, hinney. Well, well, and so you has brought a babby with you! Give it to me, Pat. What do you know, you great hulking feller! about the tending of babbies?" The man gladly relinquished his charge, then pointed backwards with his finger at Flower. "She's cold and 'ungry, and she has money to pay," he said. "Come in, then, Missy, come in; yer's a good fire, and a hunk of cheese, and some brown bread, and there'll be soup by-and-by. Yes," winking at her son, "there'll be good strong soup by-and-by." Flower, who had come up close to the threshold of the hut, now drew back a step or two. At sight of the woman her courage had revived, her feeling of extreme loneliness had vanished, and a good deal of the insolence which often marked her bearing had in consequence returned to her. "I won't go in," she said. "It looks dirty in there and I hate dirt. No, I won't go in! Bring me some food out here, please. Of course I'll pay you." "Highty-tighty!" said the woman. "And is wee babby to stay out in the cold night air?" "I forgot about the baby," said Flower. "Give her to me. Is the night air bad for babies?" she asked, looking up inquiringly at the great rough woman who stood by her side. Flower's utter and fearless indifference to even the possibility of danger had much the same effect on Mrs. Jones that it had upon her son. They both owned to a latent feeling of uneasiness in her presence. Had she showed the least trace of fear; had she dreaded them, or tried in any way to soften them, they would have known how to manage her. But Flower addressed them much as she would have done menials in her kitchen at home. The mother, as well as the son, muttered under her breath--"Never see'd such a gel!" She dropped the baby into Flower's outstretched arms, and answered her query in a less surly tone than usual. "For sure night air is bad for babes, and this little 'un is young. Yes, werry young and purty." The woman pulled aside the white fluffy shawl; two soft clear brown eyes looked up at her, and a little mouth was curved to a radiant smile.