He accordingly purchases Slingsby's property, and further invests in a waggoner's frock. To the pony he gives the name of Ambrol, which signifies in gypsy a pear. He spends a first night under the hedge in a drizzling rain, and then spends two or three days in endeavouring to teach himself the mysteries of his new trade. While living in this solitary way he is detected by Mrs. Herne, an old gypsy woman, "one of the hairy ones," as she terms herself, who carried "a good deal of devil's tinder" about with her, and had a bitter grudge against the word- master. She hated him for having wormed himself, as she fancied, into the confidence of the gypsies and learned their language. She regarded him further, as the cause of differences between herself and her sons-in- law--as an apple of discord in the Romany camp. She employed her grandchild, Leonora, to open relations in a friendly way with Lavengro, and then to persuade him to eat of a "drabbed" of poisoned cake. Lavengro was grievously sick, but was saved in the nick of time by the appearance upon the scene of a Welsh preacher, Peter Williams, and his wife--two good souls who wandered over all Wales and the greater part of England, comforting the hearts of the people with their doctrine, and doing all the good they could. They never slept beneath a roof, unless the weather was very severe. The preacher had a heavy burden upon his mind, to wit, "the sin against the Holy Ghost," committed when he was but a lad. Lavengro journeys for several days with the preacher and his wife, assuring the former that in common with most other boys he himself, when of tender years, had committed twenty such sins and felt no uneasiness about them. The young man's conversation had the effect of greatly lightening the despair of the old preacher. The latter begged the word- master to accompany him into Wales. On the border, however, Lavengro encountered a gypsy pal of his youthful days, Jasper Petulengro, and turned back with him. Mr. Petulengro informs him of the end of his old enemy, Mrs. Herne. Baffled in her designs against the stranger, the old woman had hanged herself. "You observe, brother," said Petulengro, springing from his horse, "there is a point at present between us. There can be no doubt that you are the cause of Mrs. Herne's death--innocently, you will say, but still the cause. Now I shouldn't like it to be known that I went up and down the country with a pal who was the cause of my mother-in-law's death: that is to say, unless he gave me satisfaction." So they fell to with their naked fists on a broad strip of grass in the shade under some lofty trees. In half an hour's time Lavengro's face was covered with blood, whereupon Mr. Petulengro exclaimed, "Put your hands down, brother: I'm satisfied; blood has been shed, which is all that can be expected for an old woman who carried so much brimstone about with her as Mrs. Herne."]