said, "Our road parts here; and thank you kindly. A kindness is never wasted, so they say."
"That ain't nothing," said Beale; "besides, there's the blue ribbon."
"That the dog?" the woman asked.
"Same ole dawg," said Beale, with pride.
"A pretty beast," she said. "Well—so long."
She looked back to smile and nod to them when she had taken her basket and the turning to the right, and Dickie suddenly stiffened all over, as a pointer does when it sees a partridge.
"I say," he cried, "you're the nurse"
"I've nursed a many in my time," she called back.
"But in the dream . . . you know."
"Dreams is queer things," said the woman. "And," she added, "least said is soonest mended."
"But . . ." said Dickie.
"Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut's a good motto," said she, nodded again, and turned resolutely away.
"Not very civil, I don't think," said Beale, "considerin'"
"Oh, she's all right," said Dickie, wondering very much, and very anxious that Beale should not wonder. "May I ride in the pram, farver? My foot's a bit blistered, I think. We ain't done so much walkin' lately, 'ave us?"
"Ain't tired in yourself, are you?" Mr. Beale asked, "'cause there's a place called Chevering Park, pretty as a picture—I thought we might
