"There's nowhere else, not to speak of," answered the man, "'cept the parson's." The woman gave a low laugh. "I wonder how he liked the present you made him this time seven years back," she said. She got up as she spoke to lift the lid of the pot and stir its contents; and Mary, afraid of being discovered, turned to go, trembling with excitement. Treading with great care, and feeling her way with one hand on the wall, she was almost half-way down when there fell on her ear a sound which brought her to a sudden stand-still. Towards her, coming through the empty room at the bottom of the stairs, there were footsteps plainly to be heard! Without doubt it was "Bennie" returning. The thought darted through Mary's mind, leaving her cold with terror. What could she do? To go backwards or forwards was equally dreadful-- she was caught in a kind of trap. Oh for Jackie, Fraulein, Rice, who were so near, and yet powerless to help her! All her courage gone, she sank down on the stone step, covered her face with her hands, and waited. The footsteps came nearer. In another minute the door at the foot of the stairs swung back, and a youth of eighteen or twenty came quickly up, almost stumbling over Mary in the dim light. "Hullo!" he exclaimed, "it's a child!" He put his fingers in his mouth and gave a low strange whistle, and in a moment the gypsy and his wife came out of the room above. "Here's a shine!" said Bennie. He pointed to Mary, who still crouched motionless on the step with her hair falling over her shoulders. They all stood staring at her in surprise. "Belongs to a party outside, I bet," said Bennie. "There's a lot of 'em t'other side of the house. Seed 'em as I wur comin' back." "Did they see you?" asked the man. "No fear," answered Bennie shortly. "Got over the wall." They muttered hoarsely together over Mary's head, using a strange language which she could not understand; but she made out that they were annoyed, and that they could not agree what should be done. At last the woman stooped down to her. "Where do you come from, my pretty?" she said in a wheedling tone. Mary did not answer, but still kept her face hidden. "Come alonger me, darling," continued the woman. She took Mary's arm, and half-dragged, half-led her into the room above. The child's hat had fallen off, and the light streamed down upon her bright yellow hair and her frightened brown eyes, as she raised them timidly to the dark faces round her. The woman started and gave a quick significant glance at her husband. "You live at the parson's house in Wensdale, don't yer, dearie?" she said coaxingly. "Yes," said Mary. She wondered how the woman knew. "But you're not the parson's child," continued the woman. "Give me your hand." She bent, muttering over it: "No, no, not the parson's child-- you belong to dark people, for all so white and fair you are."