"Well, what of that?" cried the gipsey woman, sharply. "I suppose you had not a shirt on when you were born."
"No, indeed," answered Mr. Woodyard, gravely. "What you say is very true. Naked we came into the world, and naked shall we go out of it; so that it does not much matter whether we have shirts on while we are here or not. Nevertheless, I will send him up something of the kind from our school in the village; for I have somehow a notion, perhaps erroneous, that he will be more comfortable when he has got some clean calico about him."
"I don't think it," replied his mother; "he never had such a thing in his life."
"Well, we'll try it, at all events," returned Mr. Woodyard. "But now let us have quiet, and obey orders."
The boy was accordingly undressed, and placed in the gardener's bed; and then, while the surgeon looked him all over, to ascertain that there was no other injury, General Tracy took the gipsey woman to the door of the cottage, and spoke to her for several minutes in a low tone. His words brought the tears into her eyes, and the nature of them may be derived from her reply.
"God bless you, gentleman," she said. "I dare say, to be rich, and well brought up, and sleep in houses, and all that, is very nice when one is accustomed to it, and better than our way of doing; but for my part I should not half like it for myself. It is very kind of you, however; and as to the boy, I suppose it is for his good. But I can't part with him altogether. I must see him when I like. And if after he has tried both, he likes our sort of life better than yours, he must come away with me."
"Let him give it a fair trial, though," said General Tracy. "He is a brave little fellow, with a heart like a lion. I look upon it that in reality he saved my life; for if the bull had not run at him, it would have gored me as I lay; and therefore I wish to do for him what I can. He shall have a fair education, if you leave him with me; and I will at once settle upon him what will put him above want. Of course, I never think of preventing you from seeing your own child; but you must promise me not to try to persuade him that your wandering life is better than that which he will have an opportunity of following. Deal fairly with the boy; let him judge for himself, and pursue his own inclinations."
"That I will promise," answered the woman, in a decided tone; "for what will make him happiest, will make me happiest."
"Then go at once and talk to his father about it," continued General Tracy; "let him promise the same thing, and all the rest will soon be settled."
"His father!" said the woman, with a sad and bitter laugh. "I wonder where I should find his father? No, no, gentleman, there is no one to be talked to about it but myself, Sally Stanley. He has never known what it is to have a father, and his mother has been all to him."