'Let me bind up thy broken head, my lassie; it is broken badly. But thou'rt a brave little lady! This comes o' meddlin'; thou'rt all too inquisitive by half. Leave them gipsies alone; or sure as thou'rt alive, I'll tell the master. Now then, thou'rt a brave little lady. Doth it pain thee, Lady Deb?' He stooped to peer anxiously with his old gray eyes into his little mistress's face.
Deborah was sitting on a high chair in the middle of the table, looking very white and grave. 'I should think it doth,' she said; 'you are a gaby to ask it, Jordan Dinnage. Finish to tie my head; and see that you do not tell father who cast me down,' she added with dignity.
The little Margaret was standing below, gazing upward at the operation in affright, with her round eyes and mouth wide open.
'Tell thy father!' retorted old Jordan with supreme disdain as he finished his surgery. 'Why, he would burn the camp and all the varmin in it for this. Fine times there'd be for Enderby with them revengeful cats. They'd be burnin' Enderby. Where wouldst thou be then?'
'In the flames, Master Dinnage,' said Deborah coolly.
Old Jordan Dinnage laughed loud and long. 'Thou art a little bold wench!' he said; then turning to his little daughter, added with mock gravity: 'Mistress Dinnage, well mayst thou gape an' stare. Thy young mistress will be the death o' me; for floutin' an' for scorn, I never knew'd her equal.'
The little maiden went quietly home, rather proud of her bandaged head than not; and the sight was so little novel to Dame Marjory's eyes, that well as she loved the child, she scarcely asked a question. That night Deborah tossed in her little bed and could not sleep. The pain in her head she heeded not; her wild and fitful fancy was conjuring up the gipsy camp. A hundred tall figures went trooping by, all with yellow and scarlet shawls tied over their heads; and tall men with black eyes, and little children, little boys with beautiful black eyes and curly hair. Dogs were lying about, and great pots full of meat were slung on poles over fires, and the red watch-fires blazed over all. She fancied all these men, women, and children came and kneeled to her, and said she was their queen. One little boy, more beautiful than the rest, said he was destined for the king, and she would be his wife. Then they hung about her necklets and bracelets, and set a crown upon her head, and the little maiden saw herself queen of the gipsies. Deborah loved power, and knew the power of beauty. She fancied herself dancing before the gipsies, in the light of the fires, in a glitter and blaze of beauty.
On the other side of the room slept Dame Marjory; she was snoring loudly. Deborah, hot and excited, sat up and gazed round; she could not rest. She started up, and sped like a little ghost into the next room, to Charlie's bedside; she seized his arm, and shook it: 'Charlie, Charlie!' The boy gave a cross snort. 'Charlie, art well awake? I have somewhat to tell, love. The gipsy camp is out on the fen, an' to-morrow I am goin' to visit them! You will come too Charlie, for there be dogs an' horses in plenty. An' mayhap you will be made the king. I mean to be the queen; for the gipsy woman has been to the gate this afternoon, an' invited me to go an' bring you along.'
Charlie stared in the dim light, well awake then, yet very cross. 'You! You are always "bringin' me along," forgettin' you are the youngest by two years. You are very wise an' grand. I am not so fond o' gipsy folk; they are sneaks and cowards.'
'Nay; they are not! If you are afeard, I'll go alone; an' I'll ride on the vans from one end o' the world to the other. So good-e'en.'