CHAPTER VIII.
Good Mrs. Hedgehog hurt one of her feet slightly in our hurried retreat,and next day was obliged to rest it; but as our curiosity was more onthe alert than ever, I went down in the afternoon to the tinker camp.
The old woman was sitting in her usual position, and she seemed to haverecovered herself. Sybil was leaning back against a tree opposite; shewore a hat and shawl, and looked almost as wild as the tinker-mother hadlooked the day before. She seemed to have been at the inn with theclergywoman, and was telling the tinker-mother the result.
"You told her he had got two years, my daughter? Does she say she willget him out?"
"She says she has no more power to do it than yourself, Mother--and theyoung gentleman says the same--unless--unless it was made known thatChristian was innocent."
"Two years," moaned the old woman. "Is she sure we couldn't buy him out,my dear? Two years--oh! Christian, my child, I shall never live to seeyou again!"
She sobbed for a minute, and then raising her hand suddenly above herhead, she cried, "A curse on Black--" but Sybil seized her by the wristso suddenly, that it checked her words.
"Don't curse him, Mother," said the gipsy girl, "and I'll--I'll see whatI can do. I meant to, and I've come to say good-bye. I've brought apacket of tea for you; see that you keep it to yourself. Good-bye,Mother."
"Good-evening, my daughter."
"I said good-bye. You don't hold with religion, do you?"
"I does not, so far, my daughter; though I think the young clergywomanspeaks very convincingly about it."
"Don't you think that there may be a better world, Mother, for them thattries to do right, though things goes against them here?"
"I think there might very easily be a better world, my dear, but I neverwas instructed about it."
"You don't believe in prayers, do you, Mother?"
"That I does not, my daughter. Christian said lots of 'em, and you seeswhat it comes to."
"It's not unlucky to say 'GOD bless you,' is it, Mother? Iwanted you to say it before I go."
"No, my daughter, I doesn't object to that, for I regards it as anold-fashioned compliment, more in the nature of good manners than ofholy words."
"GOD bless you, Mother."
"GOD bless you, my daughter."
Sybil turned round and walked steadily away. The last glimpse I had ofher was when she turned once more, and put the hair from her face tolook at the old woman: but the tinker-mother did not see her, for shewas muttering with her head upon her hands.
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It was a remarkable summer--that summer when I had seven, and when wetook so much interest in our neighbours.
I make a point of never disturbing myself about the events of by-goneseasons. At the same time, to rear a family of seven urchins is not athing done by hedgehog-parents every year, and the careers of thatfamily are very clearly impressed upon my memory.
Number one came to a sad end.
What on the face of the wood made him think of pheasants' eggs, I cannotconceive. I'm sure I never said anything about them! It was whilst hewas scrambling along the edge of the covert, that he met the Fox, andvery properly rolled himself into a ball. The Fox's nose was as long ashis own, and he rolled my poor son over and over with it, till herolled him into the stream. The young urchins swim like fishes, but justas he was scrambling to shore, the Fox caught him by the waistcoat andkilled him. I do hate slyness!
Numbers two and three were flitted. I told them so, but young peoplewill go their own way. They had excellent victuals.
Number four (my eldest daughter) settled very comfortably in life, andhad a family of three. She might have sent them down to the burdocks topick snails quite well, but she would take them out walking with herinstead. They were picked up (all four of them) by two long-legged Irishboys, who put them into a basket and took them home. I do not think theyoung gentlemen meant any harm, for they provided plenty of food, andtook them to bed with them. They set my daughter at liberty next day,and she spoke very handsomely of the young gentlemen, and said they hadcured the skins with saltpetre, and were stuffing them when she left.But the subject was always an awkward one.
Number five is still living. He is the best hand at a fight with a snakethat I know.
Numbers six and seven went to Covent Garden in a hamper. They sayblack-beetles are excellent eating.
The whole seven had a narrow escape with their lives just after Sybilleft us. They over-ate themselves on snails, and Mrs. Hedgehog had tostay at home and nurse them. I kept my eye on our neighbours and broughther the news.
"Christian has come home," I said, one day. "The Queen has given him apardon."
"Then he _did_ take the pheasants' eggs?" said Mrs. Hedgehog.
"Certainly not," said I. "In the first place it wasn't eggs, and in thesecond place it was Black Basil who took whatever it was, and he hasconfessed to it."
"Then if Christian didn't do it, how is it that he has been forgiven?"said Mrs. Hedgehog.
"I can't tell you," said I; "but so it is. And he is at this moment withthe clergywoman and the tinker-mother."
"Where is Sybil?" asked Mrs. Hedgehog.
I did not know then, and I am not very clear about her now. I never sawher again, but either I heard that she had married Black Basil, and thatthey had gone across the water to some country where the woods arebigger than they are here, or I have dreamt it in one of my winter naps.
I am inclined to think it must be true, because I always regarded Sybilas somewhat proud and unsociable, and I think she would like a big woodand very few neighbours.
But really when one sleeps for several months at a stretch it is notvery easy to be accurate about one's dreams.
FOOTNOTES:
Footnote B: _Patteran_ = the gipsy "trail."
Footnote C: "Poknees," gipsy word for magistrate.
TOOTS AND BOOTS.
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Brothers of Pity and Other Tales of Beasts and Men Page 10
