“What is it, Johnny?” he said, panting. “Have you seen her?”
“Not her. But look there. That must be the man Molly spoke of.”
Tod crashed through the hedge as if it had been so many cobwebs, and accosted the gipsy. I followed more carefully, but got my face scratched.
“Were you up at the great house, begging, a short time ago?” demanded Tod, in an awful passion.
The man turned round on Tod with a brazen face. I say brazen, because he did it so independently; but it was not an insolent face in itself; rather a sad one, and very sickly.
“What’s that you ask me, master?”
“I ask whether it was you who were at the Manor-house just now, begging?” fiercely repeated Tod.
“I was at a big house offering wares for sale, if you mean that, sir. I wasn’t begging.”
“Call it what you please,” said Tod, growing white again. “What have you done with the little girl?”
For, you see, Tod had caught up the impression that the gipsy had stolen Lena, and he spoke in accordance with it.