As they drew nearer to the city, they overtook various groups of stragglers, who had deemed it their duty, in spite of the inclement weather to wander some miles out of the city to catch an early glimpse of "My Lord Judge," and the gay Sheriff's officers. Troops, also, of itinerant ballad-singers, rope-dancers, mountebanks, and caravans of wild beasts, still followed the Judges, as they had done throughout the circuit. "Walk more slowly, Ned," said the mother, checking the boy's desire to follow the shows. "I am very tired; let us rest a little here." They lingered until the crowd was far ahead of them--and were left alone on the road. Late in the evening, as the last stragglers were returning home, the wayfarers found themselves in the suburbs of the city, and the forlorn woman looked around anxiously for a lodging. She feared the noisy people in the streets; and, turning timidly towards an old citizen who stood by his garden-gate, chatting to his housekeeper, and watching the passers-by--there was a kindness in his look which gave her confidence--so, with a homely courtesy, she ventured to inquire of him where she might find a decent resting-place. "Have you never been here before?" he asked. "Never but once, sir, when I was a child, many years ago." "What part of the country do you come from?" "Uffeulme." "Uffeulme? How did you get here?" "We have walked." "You don't say that you have trudged all the way with that youngster?" The housekeeper drowned the reply by loudly announcing to the old gentleman that his supper was waiting--"We have no lodgings, my good woman," she said, turning away from the gate. "Stop, Martha, stop," said the citizen. "Can't we direct them somewhere?--you see they are strangers. I wonder where they could get a lodging?" "I am sure I don't know," replied Martha, peevishly; "your supper will be cold--come in!" "We've had no supper," said the boy. "Poor little fellow!" said the old gentleman; "then I am sure you shall not go without. Martha, the bread and cheese!" And, opening the garden-gate, he made the travelers enter and sit down in the summer-house, whilst he went to fetch them a draught of cider. In spite of Martha's grumbling, he managed to get a substantial repast; but it grieved him that the woman, though she thanked him very gratefully and humbly, appeared unable to eat. "Your boy eats heartily," said he, "but I am afraid you don't enjoy it." With a choking utterance she thanked him, but could not eat. The good old man was striving, as well as he could, to explain to them their way to a part of the city, where they might find a lodging, when the garden-gate opened, and a young man gave to the host a hearty greeting. At the sound of his voice, the cup the woman held in her hand, fell to the ground. This drew the youth's attention to her; he looked earnestly at her for a moment, and with an exclamation of surprise, said, "Why, this is Susan Harvey?"