The Hill Before Darkness Fell 289

“J have a prayer-meeting for rain presently,”
Gavin said, breaking a picture that had just ap-
peared unpleasantly before me of Babbie still in
agony at Nanny’s, “but before I leave you, tell
me why this rumour caused you such distress.”

The question troubled me, and I tried to avoid
it. Crossing the hill we had by this time drawn
near a hollow called the Toad’s-hole, then gay and
noisy with a caravan of gypsies. They were those
same wild Lindsays, for whom Gavin had searched
Caddam one eventful night, and as I saw them
crowding round their king, a man well known to
me, I guessed what they were at.

“Mr. Dishart,” I said, abruptly, “would you
like to see a gypsy marriage? One is taking place
there just now. That big fellow is the king, and
he is about to marry two of his people over the
tongs. The ceremony will not detain us five
minutes, though the rejoicings will go on all
night.”

I have been present at more than one gypsy
wedding in my time, and at the wild, weird orgies
that followed them, but what is interesting to such
as | may not be for a minister’s eyes, and, frown-
ing at my proposal, Gavin turned his back upon
the Toad’s-hole. Then, as we recrossed the hill,
to get away from the din of the camp, I pointed
out to him that the report of his death had
brought McKenzie to Thrums, as well as me.

“ Ag soon as McKenzie heard I was not dead,”
he answered, “he galloped off to the Spittal, with-
out even seeing me. I suppose he posted back
to be in time for the night’s rejoicings there. So
you see, it was not solicitude for me that brought