Laura replied politely; but there was a reserve in her manner which,
together with the name she gave, told enough: the widow, Laura's mother,
had the reputation of being very "stuck-up", and of bringing up her
children in the same way.

The woman did not press Laura further; she whispered something behind
her hand to Peter, then searching in her basket found a large, red
apple, which she held out with an encouraging nod and smile.

"Here, my dear. Here's something for you. Don't cry any more, don't now.
It'll be all right."

Laura, who was well aware that she had not shed a tear since the couple
entered the coach, coloured deeply, and made a movement, half shy, half
unwilling, to put her hands behind her.

"Oh no, thank you," she said in extreme embarrassment, not wishing to
hurt the giver's feelings. "Mother doesn't care for us to take things
from strangers."

"Bless her soul!" cried the stout woman in amaze. "It's only an apple!
Now, my dear, just you take it, and make your mind easy. Your ma
wouldn't have nothin' against it to-day, I'm sure o' that--goin' away
so far and all so alone like this.--It's sweet and juicy."

"It's Melb'm you'll be boun' for I dessay?" said the yellow-haired Peter
so suddenly that Laura started.

She confirmed this, and let her solemn eyes rest on him wondering why he