u," said Maggie, trying to smile in a friendly way. "I
haven't time, I think--it seems getting darker. I think I must go home
now, and come again another day, and then I can bring you a basket with
some jam-tarts and things."

Maggie rose from her seat, when the old gipsy-woman said, "Stop a bit,
stop a bit, little lady; we'll take you home all safe when we've done
supper. You shall ride home like a lady."

Maggie sat down again, with little faith in this promise, though she
presently saw the tall girl putting a bridle on the donkey and throwing
a couple of bags on his back.

"Now, then, little missis," said the younger man, rising and leading
the donkey forward, "tell us where you live. What's the name o' the
place?"

"Dorlcote Mill is my home," said Maggie eagerly. "My father is Mr.
Tulliver; he lives there."

"What! a big mill a little way this side o' St. Ogg's?"

"Yes," said Maggie. "Is it far off? I think I should like to walk
there, if you please."

"No, no, it'll be getting dark; we must make haste. And the donkey'll
carry you as nice as can be--you'll see."

He lifted Maggie as he spoke, and set her on the donkey.

"Here's your pretty bonnet," said the younger woman, putting it on
Maggie's head. "And you'll say we've been very good to you, won't you,
and what a nice little lady we said you was?"

"Oh yes, thank you," said Maggie; "I'm very much obliged to you. But I
wish you'd go with me too."

"Ah, you're fondest o' me, aren't you?" said the woman. "But I can't
go; you'll go too fast for me."

It now appeared that the man also was to be seated on the donkey,
holding Maggie before him, and no nightmare had ever seemed to her more
horrible. When the woman had patted her on the back, and said
"good-bye," the donkey, at a strong hint from the man's stick, set off
at a rapid walk along the lane towards the point Maggie had come from
an hour ago.

Maggie was completely terrified at this ride on a short-paced donkey,
with a gipsy behind her, who considered that he was earning half a
crown. Two low thatched cottages--the only houses they passed in this
lane--seemed to add to the dreariness. They had no windows to speak
of, and the doors were closed. It was probable that they were
inhabited by witches, and it was a relief to find that the donkey did
not stop there.

At last--oh, sight of joy!--this lane, the longest in the world, was
coming to an end, and was opening on a broad highroa