The pale sands, the tufa rocks, the background of marshes and stagnant water looked very dreary even to her who had been used to them all her life; there was a sickly haze upon the sea, and a fog upon the horizon.
Two or three of her neighbours, wasted and wan-looking folks, gave her good evening, and glanced at the child and the dog.
'Is that child of thy kin, mother?' they asked curiously.
'Nay; I have no kin here. It is a dead friend's child, she answered them wearily, for she was very tired.
'And the dog?'
'He was my dead friend's dog; he followed me. I could not turn him adrift.'
'They will be hungry mouths, mother?'
'Ay; but I will not ask you to feed them.'
Then they laughed and stared and wondered, but dared not ask more, and let her be.
She made her way to her own house, and drew the great key from her girdle, and unlocked her door and opened it, and entered, leading the child by the hand, and followed by the dog.
