Will they speak again, and cheer the heart of a poor traveller ?' 'Have you no guide ?' asked the widow, after a moment's pause.
'None but that,' he answered, pointing with his staff towards the sun; 'and sometimes a milder one at night, but she is idle now.' 'Have you travelled far ?' 'A weary way and long,' rejoined the traveller as he shook his head.

'A weary, weary, way.

I struck my stick just now upon the bucket of your well--be pleased to let me have a draught of water, lady.' 'Why do you call me lady ?' she returned.

'I am as poor as you.' 'Your speech is soft and gentle, and I judge by that,' replied the man.
'The coarsest stuffs and finest silks, are--apart from the sense of touch--alike to me.

I cannot judge you by your dress.' 'Come round this way,' said Barnaby, who had passed out at the garden-gate and now stood close beside him.