The child then explained that they had left the races on the first day, and were travelling to the next town on that road, where they purposed to spend the night.

As the countenance of the stout lady began to clear up, she ventured to inquire how far it was.

The reply--which the stout lady did not come to, until she had thoroughly explained that she went to the races on the first day in a gig, and as an expedition of pleasure, and that her presence there had no connexion with any matters of business or profit--was, that the town was eight miles off.
This discouraging information a little dashed the child, who could scarcely repress a tear as she glanced along the darkening road.

Her grandfather made no complaint, but he sighed heavily as he leaned upon his staff, and vainly tried to pierce the dusty distance.
The lady of the caravan was in the act of gathering her tea equipage together preparatory to clearing the table, but noting the child's anxious manner she hesitated and stopped.

The child curtseyed, thanked her for her information, and giving her hand to the old man had already got some fifty yards or so away, when the lady of the caravan called to her to return.
'Come nearer, nearer still,' said she, beckoning to her to ascend the steps.