"Before I could answer, her husband spoke some words in her own language, and the 'Princess,' as we used to call her, took my hand in both of hers, and kissed it, and poured forth her thanks. She had been so engrossed with her poor sick child that she had not known me on horseback. Having done so little to deserve her thanks, I was quite surprised at such gratitude; and it made me fear that she must be now unaccustomed to kind treatment. I asked how her grandmother was, who used to sit up so proudly at Cowley, as well as her sister, the little thing that used to run in and out so. As I spoke of them, she shook her head and gazed at some long distance, to tell me that they were no more. I could not remember the rest of her people, except her Uncle Kershoe, as fine a fellow as ever stole a horse. When I spoke of him, she laughed as if he were going on as well as ever; and I hoped that it might be no son of his to whom I had trusted Cantelupe. But of course I knew that gipsy honour would hold him sacred for the time, even if he were Bay Middleton. Then I asked her about her own children, and again she shook her head and said--'Three, all three in one are now; and that is the one you saved.' With that, while her husband left the tent, Cinnaminta led me to look at the poor little fellow in his deep warm sleep. A beautiful little boy it was; a real Princess might yearn in vain for such a lovely offspring, if only the stamp of health had been on him. But the glow of airy health and breezy vigour was not on him; neither will it ever be, so far as one may judge by skin. Clear, transparent, pearly skin, all whose colour seems to come from under, instead of over it; the more the wind or the sun strikes on it, the more its colour evaporates. I fear that poor Cinnaminta's child will go the way of the younger ones." "Poor dear! poor dear!" exclaimed the Carrier, rubbing his nose in a sad slow way. "I can guess what her would be to them. If her loseth that little un, mind--well then, you will see if her dothn't go arter un." "I believe that she will," replied Overshute; "I never saw any one so wrapped up in another being as she is. As for Joe Smith, her husband, and the way she treats him, I couldn't--no, I never could put up with it, even if it were---- But, Miss Esther, why do you look with such a curious smile at me? Of such matters what can you know? However, there goes your clock again! Cripps, I shall never get home to-night; and my mother will think I was poaching. Because I will not send the poachers to prison, she believes that I must be a poacher myself!" "Now, verily, your Worship, that bates all I have ever heerd of! How could a Justice go a-poaching, howsomever he tried his best?"