"Yes. Do you know him?"
"Bless ye, child, what would I do running arter a Gentile doctor? When I aches or pains, I brew my own drinks from herb and root."
"You must have seen him, at all events," persisted Dan, taking no notice of her evasion.
"Oh yes, I've seen him. He is only a child. D'ye call him a man?"
"No, I don't. He is a slave to his vice."
"Fond of drinking, ain't he, dearie?" croaked Mother Jericho; "and it ain't whisky, nor gin, nor rum. No, no! I've heard of those brews which lift the soul from the body, and set it floatin' on golden seas. Bless ye, dearie, I have juice of a plant which can make you dream yourself into a kingdom. Ay, ay! 'Beasts of the field are ye,' say the Gentiles; but Mother Jericho and her Romany children know secrets of great power."
There was evidently nothing to be learned from this cunning old woman, who maundered on about magic ceremonies and subtle arts without again touching on the subject of Merle. Vexed by his ill success, Dan clapped his hands smartly together to rouse her from such dreams, and spoke sharply and to the point.
"Listen to me, mother. You and Tim and Dr. Merle have some scheme in your heads which concerns me."
"May I die, young man, if I ever set eyes on you afore you came to Farbis."
"That is not the question. For purposes of your own, you wish me to marry this Meg Merle."