It was after lunch that they came upon an old woman--sitting beside the
road just beyond Tredington. Long before they reached her they heard her
moaning and groaning.
"What is it?" Janet asked.
The old woman moaned and groaned.
"Are you ill?" Janet asked.
The old woman groaned and moaned.
"Kinky," said Janet, "come and see if we can help her."
Kink murmured to himself and came to her.
"What's up, missis?" he asked.
"It's my poor heart," said the old woman with an Irish brogue. "I'm very
queer. It's near death I am. For the love of Heaven give me a ride in the
beautiful caravan."
"Where do you want to go?" Kink growled at her.
"To Alverminster," she said. "To see my daughter. She lives there. She's
been married these five years to a carpenter, and she's just had another
baby, bless it's wee face! But me poor heart's that bad I can't go another
step."
Kink drew Janet aside. "She's an old humbug," he said, "and she smells of
gin. Better let her be."
"Oh, Kinky," said Janet, "how can we! The poor old thing, and her daughter
waiting to see her!"
"Daughter!" Kink snorted. "She's got no daughter. She's trying it on."
"How horrid you are!" Janet said. "I mean to give her a lift, anyway.
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