Part 32 (2/2)
”Yes, you are. When you saw me come out of Nanny's you crept behind a tree; when these boys showed themselves you shook. You are afraid of being seen with me. Go away, then; I don't want you.”
”Fear,” said Gavin, ”is one thing, and prudence is another.”
”Another name for it,” Babbie interposed.
”Not at all; but I owe it to my position to be careful. Unhappily, you do not seem to feel--to recognise--to know----”
”To know what?”
”Let us avoid the subject.”
”No,” the Egyptian said, petulantly. ”I hate not to be told things.
Why must you be 'prudent?'”
”You should see,” Gavin replied, awkwardly, ”that there is a--a difference between a minister and a gypsy.”
”But if I am willing to overlook it?” asked Babbie, impertinently.
Gavin beat the brushwood mournfully with his staff.
”I cannot allow you,” he said, ”to talk disrespectfully of my calling.
It is the highest a man can follow. I wish----”
He checked himself; but he was wis.h.i.+ng she could see him in his pulpit.
”I suppose,” said the gypsy, reflectively, ”one must be very clever to be a minister.”
”As for that----” answered Gavin, waving his hand grandly.
”And it must be nice, too,” continued Babbie, ”to be able to speak for a whole hour to people who can neither answer nor go away. Is it true that before you begin to preach you lock the door to keep the congregation in?”
”I must leave you if you talk in that way.”
”I only wanted to know.”
”Oh, Babbie, I am afraid you have little acquaintance with the inside of churches. Do you sit under anybody?”
”Do I sit under anybody?” repeated Babbie, blankly.
Is it any wonder that the minister sighed? ”Whom do you sit under?”
was his form of salutation to strangers.
”I mean, where do you belong?” he said.
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