Towards these ruins Sybil conducted the party.
"Do you dwell therein?" asked Peter, pointing towards the priory.
"That is my dwelling," said Sybil.
"It is one I should covet more than a modern mansion," returned the sexton.
"I love those old walls better than any house that was ever fashioned," replied Sybil.
As they entered the Prior's Close, as it was called, several swarthy figures made their appearance from the tents. Many a greeting was bestowed upon Luke, in the wild jargon of the tribe. At length an uncouth dwarfish figure, with a shock head of black hair, hopped towards them. He seemed to acknowledge Luke as his master.
"What ho! Grasshopper," said Luke, "take these horses, and see that they lack neither dressing nor provender."
"And hark ye, Grasshopper," added Turpin; "I give you a special charge about this mare. Neither dress nor feed her till I see both done myself. Just walk her for ten minutes, and if you have a glass of ale in the place, let her sip it."
"Your bidding shall be done," chirped the human insect, as he fluttered away with his charges.
A motley assemblage of tawny-skinned varlets, dark-eyed women and children, whose dusky limbs betrayed their lineage, in strange costume, and of wild deportment, checked the path, muttering welcome upon welcome into the ear of Luke as he passed. As it was evident he was in no mood for converse, Sybil, who seemed to exercise considerable authority over the crew, with a word dispersed them, and they herded back to their respective habitations.