"Oh, that is her husband, is it?" And he was unaffectedly puzzled.
Mercy turned pale. "Yes, he is my husband," said she, "and this is our child. Can you tell me anything about him? for he came a stranger to these parts. Belike you are a kinsman of his?"
"So they say."
This reply puzzled both women.
"Any way," said the pedlar, "you see we are marked alike." And he showed a long black mole on his forehead. Mercy was now as curious as she had been indifferent. "Tell me all about him," said she: "how comes it that he is a gentleman and thou a pedlar?"
"Well, because my mother was a gipsy, and his a gentlewoman."
"What brought him to these parts?"
"Trouble, they say."
"What trouble?"
"Nay, I know not." This after a slight but visible hesitation.