The melancholy conclusion of the first _Guy
Mannering_ tale kept the children quieter than
usual. I think they regretted a little the gallant
opening of _Waverley_, but as ever they were full
of questions.
"And all that happened here, in our Galloway?"
began Sweetheart, looking about her at the hills of
dark heather and the sparkling Solway sands, from
which the storm-clouds were just beginning to lift.
"Yes," I answered her, "though it is doubtful if
Scott ever _was_ in Galloway. But he had seen
Criffel across from Dumfries-shire, and the castle
of Ellangowan is certainly described from the ruins
of Caerlaverock, opposite New Abbey. Besides, had
he not good old Joseph Train, the Castle Douglas
exciseman, to tell him everything--than whom no man
knew Galloway better?"
"Did gipsies really steal children?" said Maid
Margaret, with some apprehension. She was somewhat
anxious, for an affirmative answer might interfere
with certain wide operations in blackberrying which
she was planning.
"Sometimes they did," I answered, "but not nearly
so often as they were blamed for. They had usually
enough mouths of their own to feed. So, unless they
were sure of a ransom, or perhaps occasionally for
the sake of revenge, gipsies very seldom were
guilty of kidnapping."
"But they always do steal them in books," said Hugh
John; "well, I would just like to see them cart me
off! And if they took Sir Toady Lion, they would
soon send him back. He eats so much!"
This was Hugh John's idea of a joke, and somewhat
hastily I interrupted fraternal strife by returning
to the general subject.
"Adam Smith, a very learned man, who afterwards
wrote _The Wealth of Nations_, was stolen by
gipsies when a child," I said.
"_I_ wish they had just kept him," said Hugh John,
unexpectedly; "then we wouldn't have had to
paraphrase the beastly thing at school. It is as
full of jaw-breakers as a perch is full of bones."
"Was little Harry really stolen by gipsies, or was
he killed over the cliff?" queried Maid Margaret.
"Of course he was stolen, silly," broke in Sir
Toady Lion, sagely; "look how much more of the book
there has got to be all about him. Think there
would be all that, if he got killed right at the
beginning, eh?"
"Do any people smuggle nowadays?" demanded Hugh
John.
"Of course they do--in Spain," interjected Sir
Toady Lion, "father got put in prison there once."
"That was all owing to a mistake," I explained
hastily (for really this had nothing to do with
Scott); "it was only because your parent happened
to be wearing the same kind of hat as a certain
well-known smuggler, a very desperate character."
"HUM-M!" said Sir Toady Lion, suddenly developing a
cold in the nose.
"Well, anyway, they do smuggle--though not much in
this country now," said Sweetheart, "and I'm glad
father knew a man who smuggled in Spain. It makes
this book so much more real."
"Getting put in prison instead of him made it
almost _too_ real," said Sir Toady. He is a most
disconcerting and ironical boy. One often wonders
where he gets it from.
So to shut off further questioning, I proceeded
immediately with the telling of the second tale
from _Guy Mannering_.