''I cannot,'' I say. ''I cannot!''
Again the woman sucks her teeth. ''Better that than the road— ain''t it? It''s one or the other. I am paid to bring you here and leave you, that''s all. Go on out, now, and let me get home.''
''I cannot,'' I say again. I grab at her sleeve. ''You must take me, somewhere else.''
''Must I?'' She laughs—does not shake me off, however. Instead, her look changes. ''Well, I will,'' she says; ''if you''ll pay me.''▂本▂作▂品▂由▂思▂兔▂在▂線▂閱▂讀▂網▂友▂整▂理▂上▂傳▂
''Pay you? I have nothing to pay you with!''
She laughs again. ''No money?'' she says. And a dress like that?''
She looks at my skirt.
''Oh, God,'' I say, plucking at it in desperation. ''I would give you the gown, if I might!''
''Would you?''
''Take the shawl!''
''The shawl''s my own!'' She snorts. She still looks at my skirt. Then she tilts her head. ''What you got,'' she says more quietly, ''underneath?''
I shudder. Then slowly, shrinkingly, I draw up my hem, show her my petticoats—two petticoats there are, one white and one crimson. She sees them, and nods.
''They''ll do. Silk, are they? They''ll do.''
''What, both?'' I say. ''Will you take both?''
''There''s the driver needs his fare, ain''t there?'' she answers. ''You must pay me, once for my