His action was so quick and my being the cause of it was so evident that I stood still instead of advancing nearer.
“I won’t go no more to the berryin ground,” muttered the boy; “I ain’t a-going there, so I tell you!”
I lifted my veil and spoke to the woman. She said to me in a low voice, “Don’t mind him, ma’am. He’ll soon come back to his head,” and said to him, “Jo, Jo, what’s the matter?”
“I know wot she’s come for!” cried the boy.
“Who?”
“The lady there. She’s come to get me to go along with her to the berryin ground. I won’t go to the berryin ground. I don’t like the name on it. She might go a-berryin me .” His shivering came on again, and as he leaned against the wall, he shook the hovel.
“He has been talking off and on about suchlike all day, ma’am,” said Jenny softly. “Why, how you stare! This is my lady, Jo.”
“Is it?” returned the boy doubtfully, and surveying me with his arm held out above his burning eyes. “She looks to me the t’other one. It ain’t the bonnet, nor yet it ain’t the gownd, but she looks to me the t’other one.”
My little Charley, with her premature experience of illness and trouble, had pulled off her bonnet and shawl and now went quietly up to him with a chair and sat him down in it like an old sick nurse. Except that no such attendant could have shown him Charley’s youthful face, which seemed to engage his confidence.
“I say!” said the boy. “ You tell me. Ain’t the lady the t’other lady?”
Charley shook her head as she methodically drew his rags about him and made him as warm as she could.