Amelia showed Nene to the upstairs room, and helped her make up one of the three beds. Leaving her to settle in, she returned to the kitchen and moved the stew pot over the fire to begin heating. After cutting the fresh loaf of bread in half, she wrapped one piece ready for the promised lunch tomorrow, and placed the other in the centre of the table beside the butter she had made the day before.
By the time Nene joined her, the stew simmered away over the fire, the table was set, and Amelia sat in one of the chairs by the fire knitting the shawl she had almost finished making for winter.
Her guest took the other chair, which creaked beneath her weight as she sighed and relaxed. 'I am getting a little old for my wanderings,' she admitted. 'I do so miss my own fire and bed.'
'Why do you travel so much if you prefer being at home?' Amelia asked.