"I am waiting," she exclaimed with a smile, "to meet you all—not you, Sir William," putting him back with her hand. "It is not you I wish to see, but the young lord. Stand forth, Lord Osborne."
"Holloa! what now," cried he advancing—but another gentleman put him back, and placing himself before the gipsy enquired why she called him forth.
"I never called you, Arthur Brooke—who named your name?—keep in your proper place, and be not hurried to assume that of others." Then rising, she pointed to the spring and exclaimed, "Are you all come to drink at the fairy spring? How will you do it—where are your glasses or your pitchers?"
It was perfectly true they had all come to drink, but had forgotten or neglected to bring any vessel with which to draw the water. After looking at them for a moment, with triumph she exclaimed,
"You must then condescend to be beholden to the gipsy for your draught—see here," and she produced, as she spoke, a small silver cup: "Lord Osborne, take this cup and fill it for your guests."
Lord Osborne advanced and prepared to obey her. Sir William stopped him by suggesting perhaps it was a magic cup which might work them harm and woe.
"Scoffer!" said the woman. "It is a magic cup. Carry that cup steadily to your lips, full to the brim, without losing a drop, and it betides you success in your life's undertakings."
"Who will try the omen?" cried Lord Osborne. "For whom shall I dip?"
"Not me! not me!" exclaimed several of the young ladies addressed.
"Let me try first for myself," he said, and stooping filled the little goblet to the brim, raising it steadily and carefully.