Meantime, Lilly had asked Arnold after his wife and family, and how he had happened to be on the bank of the river at a moment so opportune for her and Ralph.
“The questions, sweet lady, are easily answered,” said Arnold. “My wife and children are as well as scant food and hard living will allow them. We are camped about a mile from where you saw me. Knowing of old that the river is full of fish, I had gone to catch some. I had only just thrown in my line when I caught sight of your boat, and guessed that you would be the better for any help I could give you.”
“Then your family will lose the supper you expected to catch for them, and will not know what has become of you,” said Lilly.
“They are too well accustomed to go without supper to complain of that,” said Arnold; “and as to not knowing what has become of me, we make it a rule never to trouble ourselves if one or the other does not appear at the time expected. We suppose that the absent one has some good reason for not coming back to camp. We gipsies do not allow ourselves to have more cares than we can help. It is all very well for the rich who live in fine houses, and ride in fine carriages, and wear fine clothes, and have more food than they can eat, to make cares for themselves; that would never do for us.”
Ralph thought that the gipsy was growing rather impertinent in his observations; yet, as Lilly encouraged him by her remarks, he said nothing. They had for some time re-entered the tributary stream, and were proceeding quickly up it. At last, Ralph, having recovered his confidence, insisted on taking the oars, he had contemplated desiring Arnold to get out, but he had a suspicion that Lilly would not approve of such a proceeding. Arnold, without hesitation, relinquished his seat, and allowed him to take the oars.
Ralph at first rowed away sturdily enough, but the boat at once began to go on one side, and then to cross over to the other side of the stream; and even Ralph could not help discovering that instead of progressing upwards, the boat was once more dropping down with the current.
“I cannot tell how it is,” he exclaimed at last, in a tone of vexation, “there is something or other prevents me from managing the boat as I used. The oars have been changed, or they have been doing something to the boat.”
Lilly’s lips curled, but she saw that her cousin was not in a humour to bear any quizzing; so she merely said—
“Never mind then, Ralph; let Arnold take the oars and row us home as fast as he can, for I am afraid that Uncle and Aunt Clavering will be very anxious about us, if they hear the report John Hobby is likely to give.”
“He’d better not have said anything—that’s all,” growled Ralph, looking as if he could annihilate the low-born Hobby, had he dared to commit such an atrocity.