Many's the time I've driven it meself into London, to a stable in the Edgeware Road, where I left it to do me shopping.

It was an elegant carriage, and a white horse not so unlike your own, only smaller." Janet handed her the tea.
"Thank you, me darlin'," said the old woman.

"I'm feeling better already.

That's a beautiful locket you're wearing--it is the very image of one that belonged to me poor little Clara that died." The old woman began to cry.

Janet was greatly distressed.