Take him away with
you, my dear, for I am failing, and I shouldn't like to leave him with
George. Your eyes looks very hollow and your hair is grey. Not, that I
begrudges your making so much of my son, but he treats you ill, he
treats you very ill. Don't cry, my dear, it comes to an end at last,
though I thinks sometimes that all the men in the world put together is
not worth the love we wastes upon one. You hear what I say, Sybil? And
that rascal, Black Basil, is the worst of a bad lot."
"Hold your jaw, Mother," said Sybil sharply; and she added, "Be pleased
to excuse her, my lady: she is old and gets confused at times, and she
thinks you are Christian's mother, who is dead."
The old woman was bursting out again, when Sybil raised her hand, and we
all pricked our ears at a sound of noisy quarrelling that came nearer.
"It's George and his wife," said Sybil. "Mother, the gentlefolks had
better go. I'll go to the inn afterwards, and tell them about Christian.
Take the lady away, sir. Come, Mother, come!"
I've a horror of gipsy men, and even before our neighbours had
dispersed I hustled away with Mrs. Hedgehog into the bushes.
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 on
the alert than ever, I went down in the afternoon to the tinker camp.
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