"Go 'way, naughty woman--Nan don't love 'oo, 'tall, 'tall."
The gypsy stood still for a moment with a frown knitting her brows; then
she slowly turned, and, creeping on all-fours through the underwood,
climbed the hedge into the field beyond.
"Oh, no," she laughed, after a moment; "the little Missy thinks she
ain't afraid of me; but she be. Trust Mother Rachel for knowing that
much. I make no doubt," she added after a pause, "that the little one's
clothes are trimmed with real lace. Well, little Missie Annie Forest, I
can see with half an eye that you set store by that baby-girl. You had
better not cross Mother Rachel's whims, or she can punish you in a way
you don't think of."