"I'm 'prenticed, and my Ma's 'dentured. He's the master, he is." I'm looking for food for the army," I told her. She seemed to be wearing nothing but ... homespun shirt-dress, a shapeless thing that hung from her bony shoulders and had big, useless, wooden buttons down the front as its only decoration."He won' give y'none," she said. "Miser, that's what he is." What's his name?" I asked."Mr. Miller," the girl said with a sour look."He treat you all right?"She shook her head. "Tries to poke me. ” “Of course my Dear, whatever you say.” In truth, I didn't want to be too close to either of them too. A little later, after setting up the camp and lighting the camp fire, she went over to the 'Spartan like' toilets for a quick shower. The facilities are very basic with little lighting so she doesn't like to hang around there for too long. It seemed like just a few minutes, time for just a single beer, when she wandered back towards our campsite dressed only in a bathrobe. I sat on my chair. More

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