Chapter 14

THE MINISTER DANCES TO THE WOMAN'S PIPING.

Gavin let the doctor's warnings fall in the grass. In his joy over
Nanny's deliverance he jumped the garden gate, whose hinges were
of yarn, and cleverly caught his hat as it was leaving his head in
protest. He then re-entered the mud house staidly. Pleasant was
the change. Nanny's home was as a clock that had been run out, and
is set going again. Already the old woman was unpacking her box,
to increase the distance between herself and the poorhouse. But
Gavin only saw her in the background, for the Egyptian, singing at
her work, had become the heart of the house. She had flung her
shawl over Nanny's shoulders, and was at the fireplace breaking
peats with the leg of a stool. She turned merrily to the minister
to ask him to chop up his staff for firewood, and he would have
answered wittily but could not. Then, as often, the beauty of the
Egyptian surprised him into silence. I could never get used to her
face myself in the after-days. It has always held me wondering,
like my own Glen Quharity on a summer day, when the sun is
lingering and the clouds are on the march, and the glen is never
the same for two minutes, but always so beautiful as to make me
sad. Never will I attempt to picture the Egyptian as she seemed to
Gavin while she bent over Nanny's fire, never will I describe my
glen. Yet a hundred times have I hankered after trying to picture
both.

An older minister, believing that Nanny's anguish was ended, might
have gone on his knees and finished the interrupted prayer, but
now Gavin was only doing this girl's bidding.

"Nanny and I are to have a dish of tea, as soon as we have set
things to rights," she told him, "Do you think we should invite
the minister, Nanny?"

"We couldna dare," Nanny answered quickly,

"You'll excuse her, Mr. Dishart, for the presumption?"

"Presumption!" said the Egyptian, making a face.

"Lassie," Nanny said, fearful to offend her new friend, yet
horrified at this affront to the minister, "I ken you mean weel,
but Mr. Dishart'll think you're putting yoursel' on an equality
wi' him." She added in a whisper, "Dinna be so free; he's the Auld
Licht minister."

The gypsy bowed with mock awe, but Gavin let it pass. He had,
indeed, forgotten that he was anybody in particular, and was
anxious to stay to tea.

"But there is no water," he remembered, "and is there any tea?"

"I am going out for them and for some other things," the Egyptian
explained. "But no," she continued, reflectively, "if I go for the
tea, you must go for the water."