GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE.
"Then on his cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age;
Fierce he broke forth; 'And dar'st thou, then,
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?'"--MARMION.
Gipsy rode along, singing gayly, and thinking, with an inward chuckle,
of the towering rage which "Guardy" must be in. As she entered the yard
she encountered Jupiter, who looked upon her with eyes full of fear and
warning.
"Hallo, Jupe! I see you haven't 'shuffled off this mortal coil' yet, as
Louis says. I suppose you got a blowing up last night, for coming home
without me, eh?"
"Miss Roarer, honey, for mussy sake, don't 'front mas'r to-day,"
exclaimed Jupiter, with upraised hands and eyes; "dar's no tellin' what
he might do, chile. I 'vises you to go to bed an' say you's sick, or
somefin, caze he'd jes' as lief kill you as not, he's so t'arin' mad."
"Nonsense, you old simpleton! Do you think I'd tell such a lie? Let him
rage; I'll rage too, and keep him in countenance."
"Miss Roarer, if you does, dar'll be bloodshed, and den I'll be took up
for all--I knows dar will," said poor Jupiter, in a whimpering tone.
"Dis comes' o' livin' with ladies what ain't ladies, and old gen'lemen
what's got de old boy's temper in dem."
"Why, you old good-for-nothing, do you mean to say I'm not a lady!"
exclaimed Gipsy, indignantly.
"Jes' so, Miss Roarer, I don't care ef yer does whip me--dar! S'pose a
lady, a _real_ lady, would go for to shoot a poor nigger what ain't a
doing no harm to nobody, or go ridin' out all hours ob de night as _you_
do. No! stands to reason, dey wouldn't, an' dat's de trufe now, ef I
_is_ a good-for-nothin'. Dar!"
"You aggravating old Jupiter, you, I'll _dar_ you if you give me any
more of your impudence," said Gipsy, flourishing her whip over her head.
"Miss Roarer," began Jupiter, adroitly ducking his head to avoid a blow.
"Silence, sir! Don't 'Miss Roarer' me. Keep your advice till it's called
for, and take Mignonne off to the stables, an' rub him down well; and if
you leave one speck of dust on him, I'll leave you to guess what I'll do
to you." And so saying, Gipsy gathered up her riding-habit in her hand,
and ran up the broad step, singing at the top of her voice:
"Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,
Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad;
Though Guardy and aunty, an' a' should go mad,
Just whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad."
"Gipsy, Gipsy, hush, child! Your guardian is dreadfully angry with you,
and will punish you very severely, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Gower,
suddenly appearing from the dining-room. "This reckless levity will make
matters worse if he hears you. Oh, Gipsy, how could you do such an
outrageous thing?"
"La, aunty! I haven't done any 'outrageous thing' that I know of."
"Oh, child! you know it was very wrong, _very_ wrong, of you, indeed, to
stay at Deep Dale all night against his express commands."
"Now, aunty, I don't see anything very wrong at all about it. I only
wanted to have a little fun."
"Fun! Oh! you provoking little goose! he'll punish you very severely,
I'm certain."
"Well, let him, then. I don't care. I'll pay him off for it some
time--see if I don't. What do you s'pose he'll do to me, aunty? Have me
tried by court-martial, or hold a coroner's inquest on top of me, or
what?"
"He is going to lock you up in that old lumber-room, up in the attic,
and keep you there on bread and water, he says."
"Well, now, I'll leave it to everybody, if that isn't barbarous. It's
just the way the stony-hearted fathers in the story-books do to their
daughters, when they fall in love, and then their beaus come, filled
with love and rope-ladders, and off they go through the window. I say,
aunty, is there any chance for me to get through the window?"
"No, indeed, they are fastened outside with wooden shutters and iron
bolts. There is no chance of escape, so you had best be very good and
penitent, and beg his pardon, and perhaps he may forgive you."
"Beg his pardon! Ha! ha! ha! aunty, I like that, wouldn't Archie laugh
if he heard it. Just fancy _me_, Gipsy Gower, down on my knees before
him, whimpering and snuffling, and a tear in each eye, like a small
potato, and begging his serene highness to forgive me, and I'll never do
it again. Oh! goodness gracious, just fancy what a scene it would be!"
"You provoking little minx! I am sure any other little girl would beg
her guardian's pardon, when she knew she did wrong."
"But I _don't_ know that I've did wrong. On the contrary, I know I've
did _right_; and I'm going to do it over again, the first
chance--there!"
"Oh, Gipsy!--child--you are perfectly incorrigible. I despair of ever
being able to do anything with you. As I told you before, I shouldn't be
surprised if your guardian turned you out of doors for your conduct."
"And as I told _you_ before, aunty, I would not want better fun. Archie
Rivers is going to West Point soon, and I'll go with him, and 'do my
country some service' in the next war."
"If he turned you out, Gipsy, it would break my heart," said Mrs. Gower,
plaintively.
"Yes, and I suppose it would break mine too, but I luckily don't happen
to have a heart," said Gipsy, who never by any chance could, as she
called it, "do the sentimental." "However, aunty, let's live in the
sublime hope that you'll break the necks of two or three hundred
chickens and geese, before you break your own heart yet. And I protest,
here comes Guardy, stamping and fuming up the lawn. Clear out, aunty,
for I expect he'll hurl the whole of the Proverbs of Solomon at my head,
and one of 'em might chance to hit you. Go, aunty, I want to fight my
own battles; and if I don't come off with drums beating and colors
flying, it'll be a caution! Hooray!"
And Gipsy waved her plumed hat above her head, and whirled round the
room in a defiant waltz.
She was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the squire, who,
thrusting both hands into his coat pockets, stood flaming with rage
before her; whereupon Gipsy, plunging her hands into the pockets of her
riding-habit, planted both feet firmly on the ground, and confronted him
with a dignified frown, and an awful expression of countenance
generally, and to his amazement, burst out with:
"You unprincipled, abandoned, benighted, befuddled old gentleman! how
dare you have the impudence, the effrontery, the brazenness, the
impertinence, the--the--everything-else! to show your face to me after
your outrageous, your unheard-of, your monstrous, your--yes, I will say
it--diabolical conduct yesterday! Yes, sir! I repeat it, sir--I'm amazed
at your effrontery, after sending a poor, unfortunate, friendless,
degenerate son of Africa through the tremendous rain, the roaring
lightning, the flashing thunder, the silent winds, in search of me, to
stand there, looking no more ashamed of yourself than if you weren't a
fair blot on the foul face of creation! Answer me, old gentleman, and
forever afterward hold thy peace!"
"You abominable little wretch! You incarnate little fiend, you! You
impish little imp, you! I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!"
roared the old man, purple with rage.
"Look out, Guardy, you'll completely founder the English language, if
you don't take care," interrupted Gipsy.
"You impudent little vixen! I'll make you repent yesterday's conduct,"
thundered the squire, catching her by the shoulder and shaking her till
she was breathless.
"Loo--loo--look here, old gentleman, do--do--don't you try that again!"
stuttered Gipsy, panting for breath, and wrenching herself, by a
powerful jerk, free from his grasp.
"Why didn't you come home when I sent for you? Answer me that, or I
won't leave a sound bone in your body. Now, then!"
"Well, Guardy, to tell the truth, it was because I didn't choose to.
Now, then!"
"You--you--you incomparable little impudence, I'll fairly murder you!"
shouted the squire, raising his hand in his rage to strike her a blow,
which would assuredly have killed her; but Gipsy adroitly dodged, and
his hand fell with stunning force on the hall table.
With something between a howl and a yell, he started after her as she
ran screaming with laughter; and seizing her in a corner, where she had
sunk down exhausted and powerless with her inward convulsions, he shook
her until he could shake her no longer.
"I'll lock you up! I'll turn you out of doors! I'll thrash you while I
am able to stand over you! No, I won't thrash a woman in my own house,
but I'll lock you up and starve you to death. I'll be hanged if I
don't!"
"You'll be hanged if you do, you mean."
"Come along; we'll see what effect hunger and solitary confinement will
have on your high spirits, my lady," said the squire, seizing her by the
arm and dragging her along.
"Guardy, if you do, my ghost'll haunt you every night, just as sure as
shooting," said Gipsy, solemnly.
"What do I care about you or your ghost! Come along. 'The unrighteous
shall not live out half their days,' as Solomon says; therefore it's
according to Scripture, and no fault of mine if you don't live long."
"Solomon was never locked up in a garret," said Gipsy, thrusting her
knuckles in her eyes and beginning to sob, "and he don't know anything
about it. It's real hateful of you to lock me up--now! But it's just
like you, you always were an ugly old wretch every way." Sob, sob, sob.
"That's right, talk away! You can talk and scold as much as you like to
the four bare walls presently," said the squire, dragging her along.
"You're a hateful old monster! I wish you were far enough--I just do!
and I don't care if I'm taken up for defamation of character--so, there!
Boo, hoo--a hoo--a hoo," sobbed, and wept, and scolded Gipsy, as the
squire, inwardly chuckling, led her to her place of captivity.
They reached it at length; a large empty room without a single article
of furniture, even without a chair. It was quite dark, too, for the
windows were both nailed up, and the room was situated in the remotest
portion of the building, where, let poor Gipsy cry and scream as she
pleased, she could not be heard.
On entering her prison, Gipsy ceased her sobs for a moment to glance
around, and her blank look of dismay at the aspect of her prison, threw
the squire into a fit of laughter.
"So," he chuckled, "you're caught at last. Now, here you may stay till
night, and I hope by that time I'll have taken a little of the mischief
out of you."
"And I'll have nothing to pass the time," wept Gipsy. "Mayn't I go down
stairs and get a book?"
"Ha! ha! ha! No. I rather think you mayn't. Perhaps I may bring you up
one by and by," said the squire, never stopping to think how Gipsy was
to read in the dark.
"Look up there on that shelf, I can't reach; there's one, I think," said
Gipsy, whose keen eye had caught sight of an old newspaper lying on the
spot indicated.
The squire made a step forward to reach it, and like an arrow sped from
a bow, at the same instant, Gipsy darted across the room, out through
the open door. Ere the squire could turn round, he heard the door slam
to, and he was caught in his own trap, while a triumphant shout, a
delighted "hurrah!" reached his ear from without.
The squire rushed frantically to the door, and shook, and pulled, and
swore, and threatened and shouted, to all of which Gipsy answered by
tantalizingly asking him whether he'd come out now, or wait till she
let him. Then, finding threats of no avail, he betook himself to
coaxing; and wheedled, and persuaded, and promised, and flattered, but
equally in vain, for Gipsy replied that she wouldn't if she could,
couldn't if she would, for that she had thrown the key as far as she
could pitch it, out of the window, among the shrubs in the
garden--where, as she wasn't in the habit of looking for needles in
hay-stacks, she thought it quite useless searching for it; and ended by
delivering him a lecture on the virtue of patience and the beauty of
Christian resignation. And after exhorting him to improve his temper, if
possible, during his confinement, as she was going over to spend the day
at Dr. Spider's and teach Miss Hagar's little girl to ride, she went off
and left him, stamping, and swearing, and foaming, in a manner quite
awful to listen to.
True to her word, Gipsy privately sought the stables, saddled Mignonne
herself, and rode off, without being observed, to spend the day at Deep
Dale. The absence of the squire was noticed; but it was supposed he had
ridden off on business after locking up Gipsy, and therefore it created
no surprise. As he had positively forbidden any one in the house to go
near her prison, no one went; and it was only when Gipsy returned home
late at night that she learned, to her surprise and alarm, he had not
yet been liberated. The door was forced open by Jupiter, and the squire
was found lying on the floor, having raged himself into a state that
quite prevented him from "murdering" Gipsy as he had threatened. Two or
three days elapsed before "Richard" became "himself again;" and night
and day Gipsy hovered over his bedside--the quietest, the most attentive
little nurse that ever was seen, quite unalarmed by his throwing the
pillow, the gruel and pill-boxes at her head every time she appeared in
his sight.