156 The Little Minister

At this Nanny wrung her hands, crying,
“That’s waur than swearing.”

“If men,” said the gypsy, severely, “ would
keep their hands in their pockets all day, the
world’s affairs would be more easily managed.”

“ Wheesht!” cried Nanny, “if Mr. Dishart
cared to set his mind to it, he could make the
kettle boil quicker than you or me. But his
thochts is on higher things.”

‘No higher than this,” retorted the gypsy,
holding her hand level with her brow. “ Con-
fess, Mr. Dishart, that this is the exact height of
what you were thinking about. See, Nanny, he is
blushing as if I meant that he had been thinking
about me. He cannot answer, Nanny; we have
found him out.”

“ And kindly of him it is no to answer,” said
Nanny, who had been examining the gypsy’s
various purchases ; “ for what could he answer,
except that he would need to be sure o” living a
thousand years afore he could spare five minutes
on you or me? Of course, it would be different
if we sat under him.”

“And yet,” said the Egyptian, with great
solemnity, “he is to drink tea at that very table.
I hope you are sensible of the honour, Nanny.”

“Am I no?” said Nanny, whose education
had not included sarcasm. “ I’m trying to keep
frae thinking o’t till he’s gone, in case I should
let the teapot fall.”

“ You have nothing to thank me for, Nanny,”
said Gavin, “ but much for which to thank this
— this —”

“ This haggarty-taggarty Egyptian,’

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suggested