Part 24 (2/2)

Gavin looked at Nanny with admiration and envy, for she had said Babbie as coolly as if it was the name of a pepper-box.

Babbie tucked up her sleeves to wash Nanny's cups and saucers, which even in the most prosperous days of the mud house had only been in use once a week, and Gavin was so eager to help that he b.u.mped his head on the plate-rack.

”Sit there,” said Babbie, authoritatively, pointing, with a cup in her hand, to a stool, ”and don't rise till I give you permission.”

To Nanny's amazement, he did as he was bid.

”I got the things in the little shop you told me of,” the Egyptian continued, addressing the mistress of the house, ”but the horrid man would not give them to me until he had seen my money.”

”Enoch would be suspicious o' you,” Nanny explained, ”you being an Egyptian.”

”Ah,” said Babbie, with a side-glance at the minister, ”I am only an Egyptian. Is that why you dislike me, Mr. Dishart?”

Gavin hesitated foolishly over his answer, and the Egyptian, with a towel round her waist, made a pretty gesture of despair.

”He neither likes you nor dislikes you,” Nanny explained; ”you forget he's a minister.”

”That is what I cannot endure,” said Babbie, putting the towel to her eyes, ”to be neither liked nor disliked. Please hate me, Mr. Dishart, if you cannot lo--ove me.”

Her face was behind the towel, and Gavin could not decide whether it was the face or the towel that shook with agitation. He gave Nanny a look that asked, ”Is she really crying?” and Nanny telegraphed back, ”I question it.”

”Come, come,” said the minister, gallantly, ”I did not say that I disliked you.”

Even this desperate compliment had not the desired effect, for the gypsy continued to sob behind her screen.

”I can honestly say,” went on Gavin, as solemnly as if he were making a statement in a court of justice, ”that I like you.”

Then the Egyptian let drop her towel, and replied with equal solemnity:

”Oh, tank oo! Nanny, the minister says me is a dood 'ittle dirl.”

”He didna gang that length,” said Nanny, sharply, to cover Gavin's confusion. ”Set the things, Babbie, and I'll make the tea.”

The Egyptian obeyed demurely, pretending to wipe her eyes every time Gavin looked at her. He frowned at this, and then she affected to be too overcome to go on with her work.

”Tell me, Nanny,” she asked presently, ”what sort of man this Enoch is, from whom I bought the things?”

”He is not very regular, I fear,” answered Gavin, who felt that he had sat silent and self-conscious on his stool too long.

”Do you mean that he drinks?” asked Babbie.

”No, I mean regular in his attendance.”

The Egyptian's face showed no enlightenment.

”His attendance at church,” Gavin explained.

”He's far frae it,” said Nanny, ”and as a body kens, Joe Cruickshanks, the atheist, has the wite o' that. The scoundrel telled Enoch that the great ministers in Edinbury and London believed in no h.e.l.l except sic as your ain conscience made for you, and ever since syne Enoch has been careless about the future state.”

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