“There’s no way. How could there be? I’m going home,” said Stella.
“Of all the cowards! That’s what you are! I’d rather be—Australian, as you call it, than a coward and leave a baby crying!” Stella’s guest of the afternoon turned upon her hostess with flashing eyes. “And after talking of winning the bravery shield!”
The mention of the shield certainly seemed to revive, to a slight extent, Stella’s departing nerve.
“I’m not a coward, and if it’s for the shield——” She stopped. “Only, how——? We’ll never get the shield if the gipsies kill us.”
“Kill us! It’s better than killing the baby, anyhow. And they won’t kill us. Look here!” Margot had been thinking rapidly. “There’s two of us, and there’s two things to do. (Oh dear, do listen to that baby!) Stella, if I get the men out, will you go in? If they’re not there—only the baby, you know—you couldn’t possibly be frightened, could you? And you could rescue it while they are both away.”
“I wouldn’t mind rescuing a baby,” admitted Stella, with her mental eye on the bravery shield, “so long as—I mean, so long as you’ll do something to keep the men away from me all the time.”
“Leave that to me, then. You lie here—till I’ve done it. You absolutely needn’t move till you see the gipsy men come out of the tent. Then, well, they’ll not be back, I promise you, till you’ve had time to get hold of the child. It sounds like a small one, anyway. I’m sure you can carry it until I meet you.”
“But——” faltered Stella.
But, as the child’s cries broke out again, Margot darted from her side. As she went, she tugged violently at the leather girdle of her out-to-tea jumper frock.
“Stella, you remember that you’ve promised. Be sure——” panted Margot as she ran.