'O no,' the woman answered; 'a be gone his rounds; and 't be odds but they do take un, God willing, a week.' This was sufficient encouragement for the harassed Juliet joyfully to accept the invitation for remaining with them a few days. She deposited, therefore, her baggage in the no longer rejected up stairs chamber; and, after a few hours of quiet repose, took the entire charge of the children for the rest of the day; not merely to play with and amuse them, but to work for them. And her industry and adroitness soon put their whole little wardrobe in order; and she fashioned their clothing to their little shapes, in a manner so neat and commodious, that all that they possessed appeared to them to be new. The day following, with the same happy skill, she dedicated her time to the service of the mother; whose entreaties grew more and more urgent, that she would prolong her stay at the cottage. Far was she from desirous to quit it. With repose so much required, she here found comfort, peace, and affection,--three principal ingredients in the composition of happiness! which her mind, in her uncertainty of the fate awaiting her, was delighted to seize, and eager to requite. For whomsoever, therefore, and at whatsoever she worked, she sung simple songs, or told simple stories, with invariable good humour and pleasantry, to her little friends, who clung to her with passionate fondness; while their enchanted mother thought that some angel was descended amongst them, in guise of a traveller, to charm and to serve them at once. To the unhackneyed observation of this good woman, the change of attire in Juliet, since their meeting at Salisbury, offered no sort of food to conjecture; she concluded that to walk about that fine city, had well deserved the best clothes; and that the worst had naturally been put on, afterwards, for economy, upon the road. Juliet found her wholly ignorant of the Salisbury adventure; and filled with innocent gratitude, in concluding that she had been benighted in the Forest, while seeking to find the little dearys whom she had thought so pretty upon the high road. End of Project Gutenberg's The Wanderer (Volume 4 of 5), by Fanny Burney