Part 24 (1/2)

”I suppose she'll gie you the money,” she said, ”and syne you'll gie me the seven s.h.i.+llings a week?”

”That seems the best plan,” Gavin answered.

”And what will you gie it me in?” Nanny asked, with something on her mind. ”I would be terrible obliged if you gae it to me in saxpences.”

”Do the smaller coins go farther?” Gavin asked, curiously.

”Na, it's no that. But I've heard tell o' folk giving away half-crowns by mistake for twa-s.h.i.+lling bits; ay, and there's something dizzying in ha'en fower-and-twenty pennies in one piece; it has sic terrible little bulk. Sanders had aince a gold sovereign, and he looked at it so often that it seemed to grow smaller and smaller in his hand till he was feared it micht just be a half after all.”

Her mind relieved on this matter, the old woman set off for the well.

A minute afterwards Gavin went to the door to look for the gypsy, and, behold, Nanny was no further than the gate. Have you who read ever been sick near to death, and then so far recovered that you could once again stand at your window? If so, you have not forgotten how the beauty of the world struck you afresh, so that you looked long and said many times, ”How fair a world it is!” like one who had made a discovery. It was such a look that Nanny gave to the hill and Caddam while she stood at her garden gate.

Gavin returned to the fire and watched a girl in it in an officer's cloak playing at hide and seek with soldiers. After a time he sighed, then looked round sharply to see who had sighed, then, absent-mindedly, lifted the empty kettle and placed it on the glowing peats. He was standing glaring at the kettle, his arms folded, when Nanny returned from the well.

”I've been thinking,” she said, ”o' something that proves the la.s.sie to be just an Egyptian. Ay, I noticed she wasna nane awed when I said you was the Auld Licht minister. Weel, I'se uphaud that came frae her living ower muckle in the open air. Is there no' a smell o' burning in the house?”

”I have noticed it,” Gavin answered, sniffing, ”since you came in. I was busy until then, putting on the kettle. The smell is becoming worse.”

Nanny had seen the empty kettle on the fire as he began to speak, and so solved the mystery. Her first thought was to s.n.a.t.c.h the kettle out of the blaze, but remembering who had put it there, she dared not. She sidled toward the hearth instead, and saying craftily, ”Ay, here it is; it's a clout among the peats,” softly laid the kettle on the earthen floor. It was still red with sparks, however, when the gypsy reappeared.

”Who burned the kettle?” she asked, ignoring Nanny's signs.

”La.s.sie,” Nanny said, ”it was me;” but Gavin, flus.h.i.+ng, confessed his guilt.

”Oh, you stupid!” exclaimed the Egyptian, shaking her two ounces of tea (which then cost six s.h.i.+llings the pound) in his face.

At this Nanny wrung her hands, crying, ”That's waur than swearing.”

”If men,” said the gypsy, severely, ”would keep their hands in their pockets all day, the world's affairs would be more easily managed.”

”Wheesht!” cried Nanny, ”if Mr. Dishart cared to set his mind to it, he could make the kettle boil quicker than you or me. But his thochts is on higher things.”

”No higher than this,” retorted the gypsy, holding her hand level with her brow. ”Confess, Mr. Dishart, that this is the exact height of what you were thinking about. See, Nanny, he is blus.h.i.+ng as if I meant that he had been thinking about me. He cannot answer, Nanny: we have found him out.”

”And kindly of him it is no to answer,” said Nanny, who had been examining the gypsy's various purchases; ”for what could he answer, except that he would need to be sure o' living a thousand years afore he could spare five minutes on you or me? Of course it would be different if we sat under him.”

”And yet,” said the Egyptian, with great solemnity, ”he is to drink tea at that very table. I hope you are sensible of the honour, Nanny.”

”Am I no?” said Nanny, whose education had not included sarcasm. ”I'm trying to keep frae thinking o't till he's gone, in case I should let the teapot fall.”

”You have nothing to thank me for, Nanny,” said Gavin, ”but much for which to thank this--this----”

”This haggarty-taggarty Egyptian,” suggested the girl. Then, looking at Gavin curiously, she said, ”But my name is Babbie.”

”That's short for Barbara,” said Nanny; ”but Babbie what?”

”Yes, Babbie Watt,” replied the gypsy, as if one name were as good as another.

”Weel, then, lift the lid off the kettle, Babbie,” said Nanny, ”for it's boiling ower.”