It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon, when drawing near another cluster of labourers' huts, the child looked wistfully in each, doubtful at which to ask for permission to rest awhile, and buy a draught of milk.
It was not easy to determine, for she was timid and fearful of being repulsed.

Here was a crying child, and there a noisy wife.

In this, the people seemed too poor; in that, too many.

At length she stopped at one where the family were seated round the table--chiefly because there was an old man sitting in a cushioned chair beside the hearth, and she thought he was a grandfather and would feel for hers.
There were besides, the cottager and his wife, and three young sturdy children, brown as berries.

The request was no sooner preferred, than granted.