Chapter 13 - Page 2

Dishart gives more
than any other man in Thrums to the poor, and he is not to be
preached to by a gypsy. We are waiting for you, Nanny."

"Ay, I'm coming," said Nanny, leaving the Egyptian. "I'll hae to
gang, lassie. Dinna greet for me."

But the Egyptian said, "No, you are not going. It is these men who
are going. Go, sirs, and leave us."

"And you will provide for Nanny?" asked the doctor contemptuously.

"Yes."

"And where is the siller to come from?"

"That is my affair, and Nanny's. Begone, both of you. She shall
never want again. See how the very mention of your going brings
back life to her face."

"I won't begone," the doctor said roughly, "till I see the colour
of your siller."

"Oh, the money," said the Egyptian scornfully. She put her hand
into her pocket confidently, as if used to well-filled purses, but
could only draw out two silver pieces.

"I had forgotten," she said aloud, though speaking to herself.

"I thought so," said the cynical doctor. "Come, Nanny."

"You presume to doubt me!" the Egyptian said, blocking his way to
the door.

"How could I presume to believe you?" he answered. "You are a
beggar by profession, and yet talk as if--pooh, nonsense."

"I would live on terrible little," Nanny whispered, "and Sanders
will be out again in August month."

"Seven shillings a week," rapped out the doctor.

"Is that all?" the Egyptian asked. "She shall have it."

"When?"

"At once. No, it is not possible to-night, but to-morrow I will
bring five pounds; no, I will send it; no, you must come for it."

"And where, O daughter of Dives, do you reside?" the doctor asked.

No doubt the Egyptian could have found a ready answer had her pity
for Nanny been less sincere; as it was, she hesitated, wanting to
propitiate the doctor, while holding her secret fast.

"I only asked," McQueen said, eyeing her curiously, "because when
I make an appointment I like to know where it is to be held. But I
suppose you are suddenly to rise out of the ground as you have
done to-day, and did six weeks ago."

"Whether I rise out of the ground or not," the gypsy said, keeping
her temper with an effort, "there will be a five-pound note in my
hand. You will meet me tomorrow about this hour at--say the Kaims
of Cushie?"

"No," said the doctor after a moment's pause; "I won't. Even if I
went to the Kaims I should not find you there.