Audacity of the Woman 85

permission to pass first. Hae you heard, Mr.
Dishart,” Wearyworld whispered, “that the
Egyptian diddled baith the captain and the
shirra? It’s my official opinion that she’s no
better than a roasted onion, the which, if you
grip it firm, jumps out o’ sicht, leaving its coat
in your fingers. Mr. Dishart, you can pass.”

The policeman turned down the school wynd,
and Gavin, who had already heard exaggerated
accounts of the strange woman’s escape from the
town-house, proceeded along the Tenements.
He walked in the black shadows of the houses,
though across the way there was the morning
light.

In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had,
as it were, put on the black cap; but now, even
though he shook his head angrily with every
thought of her, the scene in Windyghoul glim-
meted before his eyes. Sometimes when he
meant to frown he only sighed, and then hav-
ing sighed he shook himself. He was unpleas-
antly conscious of his right hand, which had flung
the divit. Ah, she was shameless, and it would
be a bright day for Thrums that saw the last
of her. He hoped the policemen would succeed
in— It was the gladsomeness of innocence that
he had seen dancing in the moonlight. A mere
woman could not be like that. How soft —
And she had derided him; he, the Auld Licht
minister of Thrums, had been flouted before his
people by a hussy. She was without reverence,
she knew no difference between an Auld Licht
minister, whose duty it was to speak and hers
to listen, and herself. This woman deserved to