“At him, juggal, at him; he wished to poison, to drab you. Halloo!”
The dog barked violently, and seemed about to spring at my face, but retreated.
“The dog won’t fly at him, child; he flashed at the dog with his eye, and scared him. He’ll get up.”
“Nonsense, bebee! you make me angry; how should he get up?”
“The dook tells me so, and, what’s more, I had a dream. I thought I was at York, standing amidst a crowd to see a man hung, and the crowd shouted ‘There he comes!’ and I looked, and, lo! it was the tinker; before I could cry with joy I was whisked away, and I found myself in Ely’s big church, which was chock full of people to hear the dean preach, and all eyes were turned to the big pulpit; and presently I heard them say, ‘There he mounts!’ and I looked up to the big pulpit, and, lo! the tinker was in the pulpit, and he raised his arm and began to preach. Anon, I found myself at York again, just as the drop fell, and I looked up, and I saw, not the tinker, but my own self hanging in the air.”
“You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your stick and poke him in the eye.”
“That will be of no use, child, the dukkerin tells me so; but I will try what I can do. Halloo, tinker! you must introduce yourself into a quiet family, and raise confusion—must you? You must steal its language, and, what was never done before, write it down Christianly—must you? Take that—and that;” and she stabbed violently with her stick towards the end of the tent.
“That’s right, bebee, you struck his face; now once more, and let it be in the eye. Stay, what’s that? get up, bebee.”
“What’s the matter, child?”