“Listen,” said the girl, “and I’ll tell you who I am. We can talk safely, because Black Bill will be out half the night, and old Hannah is in a heavy sleep—she drinks, and once asleep nothing will wake her. First, I must tell you, I’m not a gipsy, like these people——”
“I can see that,” said Danny.
“Well, they stole me from my daddy ages ago—I think it must be seven or eight years. They’ve always kept me shut up in this place, except when they take me out and make me dance. When I used to cry for my daddy Black Bill used to beat me. I don’t cry now—I’m too miserable. They never give me a chance to talk to any one. But I read in a paper about Scouts, and when I saw you sitting so close to me at the circus, suddenly a great hope seemed to jump up in my heart. I was sure if you knew how terribly miserable I am you would help me to escape.”
“Yes, yes!” said Danny. “But tell me, what was your father?”
“An artist,” she said. “Oh, he used to paint such lovely pictures—full of fairies, they were! I often dream of them and—and—of him. Oh, my poor, poor daddy!” she said suddenly, with a great sob. “What have you done all these years without your little Mariette?” A big tear rolled down her cheek.
“I say, don’t cry!” said Danny, giving her his handkerchief. “Your daddy is quite near here. He is spending his life hunting for you, and praying God to let him find you. I promised to help him. How good God is to have let me find you!”
“I prayed, too,” whispered Mariette.
“Now,” said Danny, “how can we get you away? Shall I creep out of the field and fetch a party of police and men and have Black Bill arrested?”
“No, no,” said Mariette in a terrified whisper, “don’t leave me, don’t leave me! Take me with you—take me to my daddy! If you brought police it would be no use. Black Bill has a terrible way of hiding me. Besides, he is friends with all the police. It would be no good. Oh, take me with you!”
Danny looked about him. Would it be safe to take her across the open ground and get through the hedge? He would risk it. Once through they could run, and he knew every gap and short cut. They would make straight for the barn where her father was living during the hay harvest. He would think it was a wonderful dream when he saw his little Mariette, her golden curls shining in the moonlight, as if she really was a moonlight fairy.