Part 28 (2/2)

”If it is about duty,” entreated Babbie, ”don't say it. Don't, and I will give you the berries.”

She took the berries from her dress, smiling triumphantly the while like one who had discovered a cure for duty; and instead of pointing the finger of wrath at her, Gavin stood expectant.

”But no,” he said, remembering who he was, and pus.h.i.+ng the gift from him, ”I will not be bribed. I must tell you----”

”Now,” said the Egyptian, sadly, ”I see you are angry with me. Is it because I said I lived in a tree? Do forgive me for that dreadful lie.”

She had gone on her knees before he could stop her, and was gazing imploringly at him, with her hands clasped.

”You are mocking me again,” said Gavin, ”but I am not angry with you.

Only you must understand----”

She jumped up and put her fingers to her ears.

”You see I can hear nothing,” she said.

”Listen while I tell you----”

”I don't hear a word. Why do you scold me when I have kept my promise?

If I dared to take my fingers from my ears I would give you the money for Nanny. And, Mr. Dishart, I must be gone in five minutes.”

”In five minutes!” echoed Gavin, with such a dismal face that Babbie heard the words with her eyes, and dropped her hands.

”Why are you in such haste?” he asked, taking the five pounds mechanically, and forgetting all that he had meant to say.

”Because they require me at home,” she answered, with a sly glance at her fir. ”And, remember, when I run away you must not follow me.”

”I won't,” said Gavin, so promptly that she was piqued.

”Why not?” she asked. ”But of course you only came here for the money.

Well, you have got it. Good-bye.”

”You know that was not what I meant,” said Gavin, stepping after her.

”I have told you already that whatever other people say, I trust you.

I believe in you, Babbie.”

”Was that what you were saying to the tree?” asked the Egyptian, demurely. Then, perhaps thinking it wisest not to press this point, she continued irrelevantly, ”It seems such a pity that you are a minister.”

”A pity to be a minister!” exclaimed Gavin, indignantly. ”Why, why, you--why, Babbie, how have you been brought up?”

”In a curious way,” Babbie answered, shortly, ”but I can't tell you about that just now. Would you like to hear all about me?” Suddenly she seemed to have become confidential.

”Do you really think me a gypsy?” she asked.

”I have tried not to ask myself that question.”

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