Not but what my
son did walk it once;--and he a shoemaker, who knows what walking costs;
and he is well-to-do there now--not that he ever writes. When they want
nothing people never write."
"And he walked into Paris?"
"Yes, ten years ago. He had nothing but a few sous and an ash stick, and
he had a fancy to try his luck there. And after all our feet were given
us to travel with. If you go there and you see him, tell him to send me
something--I am tired of selling nuts."
Bebee said nothing, but went on her road; since there was no other way
but to walk, she would take that way; the distance and the hardship did
not appall two little feet that were used to traverse so many miles of
sun-baked summer dust and of frozen winter mud unblenchingly year after
year.
The time it would take made her heart sink indeed. He was ill. God knew
what might happen. But neither the length of leagues nor the fatigue of
body daunted her. She only saw his eyes dim with pain and his lips burned
with fever.
She would walk twenty miles a day, and then, perhaps, she might get lifts
here and there on hay wagons or in pedlers' carts; people had always used
to be kind to her.
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