Chapter 13

SECOND COMING OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN.

The gypsy had been passing the house, perhaps on her way to Thrums
for gossip, and it was only curiosity, born suddenly of Gavin's
cry, that made her enter. On finding herself in unexpected company
she retained hold of the door, and to the amazed minister she
seemed for a moment to have stepped into the mud house from his
garden. Her eyes danced, however, as they recognised him, and then
he hardened. "This is no place for you," he was saying fiercely,
when Nanny, too distraught to think, fell crying at the Egyptian's
feet.

"They are taking me to the poorhouse," she sobbed; "dinna let
them, dinna let them."

The Egyptian's arms clasped her, and the Egyptian kissed a sallow
cheek that had once been as fair as yours, madam, who may read
this story. No one had caressed Nanny for many years, but do you
think she was too poor and old to care for these young arms around
her neck? There are those who say that women cannot love each
other, but it is not true. Woman is not undeveloped man, but
something better, and Gavin and the doctor knew it as they saw
Nanny clinging to her protector. When the gypsy turned with
flashing eyes to the two men she might have been a mother guarding
her child.

"How dare you!" she cried, stamping her foot; and they quaked like
malefactors.

"You don't see--" Gavin began, but her indignation stopped him.

"You coward!" she said.

Even the doctor had been impressed, so that he now addressed the
gypsy respectfully.

"This is all very well," he said, "but a woman's sympathy--"

"A woman!--ah, if I could be a man for only five minutes!"

She clenched her little fists, and again turned to Nanny.

"You poor dear," she said tenderly, "I won't let them take you
away."

She looked triumphantly at both minister and doctor, as one who
had foiled them in their cruel designs.

"Go!" she said, pointing grandly to the door.

"Is this the Egyptian of the riots," the doctor said in a low
voice to Gavin, "or is she a queen? Hoots, man, don't look so
shamefaced. We are not criminals. Say something."

Then to the Egyptian Gavin said firmly--

"You mean well, but you are doing this poor woman a cruelty in
holding out hopes to her that cannot be realised. Sympathy is not
meal and bedclothes, and these are what she needs."

"And you who live in luxury," retorted the girl, "would send her
to the poorhouse for them. I thought better of you!"

"Tuts!" said the doctor, losing patience, "Mr.