Peregrine, I
can't abide you, ma'm. When I wants money, being only a gipsy mort, I
works for it or prigs it. So I don't want your money, thanking you
kindly, ma'm, and I don't want your nephew, so you may take him and
willing. An' I don't want your friendship or help, because I likes
loneliness and the Silent Places better. So take your precious nephew,
ma'm, and when you get him safe home, wash him an' keep him in a glass
case; 'tis what he's best fitted for. But watch him, lady, lock him up
secure, because I think--I know--I could whistle him away from you
whenever I would--back, ma'm, back to me and the Silent Places. And so
good-day, ma'm, my best respects!" Saying which, Diana curtseyed again
and turned away.
"The creature!" exclaimed my aunt. "The minx! The insolent baggage!"
And she stepped proudly forward, an angry goddess, the jewelled switch
quivering.
"Stop, lady!" said Diana, throwing out a shapely arm with gesture so
imperious that my aunt stood staring and amazed. "Stop, ma'm--don't
forget as you're a great lady and I'm only a gipsy mort as could tear
you in pieces for all your size! To spoil them fine eyes would be
pity, to pull that long hair out would be shame, so don't use your
whip, lady--don't!" Having said which, she turned and walked serenely
away.
"A most dreadful young person!" exclaimed my aunt. "See from what
calamitous evils I have snatched you, dear Peregrine. Come, let us be
going.
Pages:
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227