May Fleming - Sharing Her Crime - A Novel

"Know it, Guardy, and that's just the reason I went."

"Because I forbade you, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"You – you – you disobedient little hussy, you! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Ashamed! – what of? I haven't got the gout in my leg."

"Gipsy, you dreadful child, hush!" said Lizzie, in alarm.

"Oh, let her go on! She's just as you taught her, madam. And as to you, Miss Gipsy, or Aurora, or whatever your name is, let me tell you, the gout is nothing to be ashamed of. It runs in the most respectable families, miss."

"Lord, Guardy! What a pity I can't have it, too, and help to keep up the respectability of the family!"

Louis turned to the window, and struggled violently with a laugh, which he endeavored to change into a cough, and the laugh and cough meeting, produced a choking sensation. This sent Gipsy to his aid, who, after administering sundry thumps on his back with her little closed fists, restored him to composure, and the squire returned to the charge.

"And now, to 'return to our mutton,' as Solomon says; or – hold on a minute – was it Solomon who said that?"

The squire paused, and placed his finger reflectively on the point of his nose, in deep thought; but being unable to decide, he looked up, and went on:

"Yes, miss, as I was saying, what took you over to Deep Dale so early this morning? Tell me that."

"Well, if I must, I must, I s'pose – so here goes."

"Hallo, Gipsy!" interrupted Louis. "Take care – you're making poetry."

"No, sir! I scorn the accusation!" said Gipsy, drawing herself up. "But, Guardy, since I must tell you, I went over to see – ahem! – Archie!"

"You did!" grunted Guardy. "Humph! humph! humph!"

"Don't take it so much to heart, Guardy. No use grieving – 'specially as the grief might settle in your poor afflicted leg – limb, I mean."

"And may I ask, young lady, what you could possibly want with him?" said the squire, sternly.

"Oh, fifty things! He's my beau, you know."

"Your beau! — your beau! – your BEAU! My conscience!"

"Yes, sir, we're engaged."

"You are? 'Oh, Jupiter,' as Solomon says. Pray, madam (for such I presume you consider yourself), when will you be twelve years old?"

"Oh, as soon as I can. I don't want to be an old maid."

"So it seems, you confounded little Will-o'-the-wisp. And will you be good enough to inform us how this precious engagement came about?" said the squire, with a savage frown.

"With pleasure, sir. You see, we went out to gather grapes in the wood one day, and we had a splendiferous time. And says I, 'Archie, ain't this nice?' – and says he 'Yes' – and says I, 'Wouldn't it be nice if we'd get married?' – and says he, 'Yes' – and says I, ' Will you have me, though?' – and says he, 'Yes' – and says I – "

"'Ain't we a precious pair of fools?' and says he, 'Yes,'" interrupted the squire, mimicking her. "Oh, you're a nice gal – you're a pretty young lady!"

"Yes, ain't I, now? You and I are of one opinion there, exactly. Ain't you proud of me?"

" Proud of you, you barefaced little wretch! I'd like to twist your neck for you!" thundered the squire.

"Better not, Guardy; you'd be hung for man -slaughter if you did, you know."

" You don't call yourself a man, I hope!" said Louis.

"Well, if I don't, I'm a girl – which is a thousand times nicer. And speaking of girls, reminds me that Miss Hagar's got the dearest, darlingest, beautifulest little girl you ever set your eyes on."

"Miss Hagar?" they all exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, to be sure. Law! you needn't look so astonished; this is a free country. And why can't Miss Hagar have a little girl, if she wants to, as well as anybody else, I'd like to know?" exclaimed Gipsy, rather indignantly.

"To be sure," said Louis, who took the same view of the case as Gipsy.

"Where did she get it? – whose little girl is it?" inquired Lizzie, slightly roused from her languor by the news.

"Don't know, I'm sure; nobody don't. She was off somewhere poking round all day yesterday, and came home at night with this little girl. Oh, Louis, she's such a dear little thing!"

"Is she?" said Louis, absently.

"Yes, indeed – with a face like double-refined moonlight, and long, yellow hair, and blue eyes, and pink dress, and cheeks to match. She's twice as pretty as Minette; and Miss Hagar's going to keep her, and teach her to tell fortunes, I expect."

"I wonder Dr. Wiseman allows Miss Hagar to fill the house with little beggars," said Lizzie.

"Oh, Spider's got nothing to do with it. Miss Hagar has money of her own, and can keep her if she likes. Pity if she'd have to ask permission of that 'thing of legs and arms,' everything she wants to do."

"Gipsy, my dear, you really must not speak so of Dr. Wiseman: it's positively shocking," said the highly-scandalized Mrs. Oranmore.

"Well, I don't care; he is a 'thing of legs and arms.' There, now!"

"What's the little girl's name, Gipsy?" inquired Louis.

" Celeste – isn't it pretty? And she – oh, she's a darling, and no mistake. Wouldn't I marry her if I was a man – maybe I wouldn't."

"What's her other name?"

"Got none – at least she said so; and, as I didn't like to tell her she told a story, I asked Miss Hagar, and she told me to mind my own business; yes, she actually did. Nobody minds how they talk to me. People haven't a bit of respect for me; and I have to put up with sass from every one. I won't stand it much longer, either. There!"

"No, I wouldn't advise you to," said Louis. "Better sit down; no use in standing it."

"Wiseman's a fool if he lets that crazy tramp, his sister, support beggars in his house," exclaimed the squire, in a threatening tone. "Lunatics like her should not be allowed to go at large. He has no business to permit it."

"I'd like to see him trying to stop it," said Gipsy. "I'd be in his wool."

" You! " said the squire, contemptuously. "What could a little Tom Thumb in petticoats, like you, do?"

"Look here, now, Guardy, don't call a lady names. When you speak of Tom Thumb, you know, it's getting personal. What could I do? Why, I'd set his house on fire some night about his ears, or some day, when out shooting, a bullet might strike him accidentally on purpose. It takes me to defend injured innocence," said Gipsy, getting up, and squaring-off in an attitude of defiance, as she exclaimed: "Come on, old Wiseman, I'm ready for you!"

"Well, I can't allow you to associate with beggars. You must never go to Deep Dale again. I can't countenance his proceedings. If he choose to make a fool of himself, it's no reason why I should do so too."

"None in the world, sir – especially as nature has saved you that trouble."

"You audacious little demon, you! what do you mean?"

"Ahem! I was just observing, sir, that it's time for breakfast," said Gipsy, demurely.

"Humph! humph! well, ring for Mrs. Gower, and hold your tongue."

"Sorry I can't oblige you, Guardy. But how can I hold my tongue and eat?"

"I wish I could find something to take the edge off it; it's altogether too sharp," growled the old man to himself.

Mrs. Gower, fat and good-natured as ever, entered at this moment; and, as they assembled round the table, the squire – who, though he generally got the worst of the argument, would never let Gipsy rest – again resumed the subject.

"Mind, monkey, you're not to go to Deep Dale again; I forbid you – positively forbid you."

"Lor! Guardy, you don't say so!"

"Don't be disrespectful, minx. If I'm your guardian, you shall obey me. You heard me say so before, didn't you?"

"Why, yes, I think so; but, then, you say so many things, a body can't be expected to remember them all. You must be talking, you know; and you might as well be saying that as anything else."