"At him, juggal, at him; he wished to poison, to drab you. Halloo!" The dog barked violently, and seemed about to spring at my face, but retreated. "The dog won't fly at him, child; he flashed at the dog with his eye, and scared him. He'll get up." "Nonsense, bebee! you make me angry; how should he get up?" "The dook tells me so, and, what's more, I had a dream. I thought I was at York, standing amidst a crowd to see a man hung, and the crowd shouted 'There he comes!' and I looked, and, lo! it was the tinker; before I could cry with joy I was whisked away, and I found myself in Ely's big church, which was chock full of people to hear the dean preach, and all eyes were turned to the big pulpit; and presently I heard them say, 'There he mounts!' and I looked up to the big pulpit, and, lo! the tinker was in the pulpit, and he raised his arm and began to preach. Anon, I found myself at York again, just as the drop fell, and I looked up, and I saw not the tinker, but my own self hanging in the air." "You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your stick and poke him in the eye." "That will be of no use, child, the dukkerin tells me so; but I will try what I can do. Halloo, tinker! you must introduce yourself into a quiet family, and raise confusion--must you? You must steal its language, and, what was never done before, write it down Christianly--must you? Take that--and that;" and she stabbed violently with her stick towards the end of the tent. "That's right, bebee, you struck his face; now once more, and let it be in the eye. Stay, what's that? get up, bebee." "What's the matter, child?" "Some one is coming; come away." "Let me make sure of him, child; he'll be up yet." And thereupon Mrs. Herne, rising, leaned forward into the tent, and, supporting herself against the pole, took aim in the direction of the farther end. "I will thrust out his eye," said she; and, lunging with her stick, she would probably have accomplished her purpose had not at that moment the pole of the tent given way, whereupon she fell to the ground, the canvas falling upon her and her intended victim. "Here's a pretty affair, bebee," screamed the girl. "He'll get up yet," said Mrs. Herne, from beneath the canvas. "Get up!--get up yourself; where are you? where is your . . . Here, there, bebee, here's the door; there, make haste; they are coming." "He'll get up yet," said Mrs. Herne, recovering her breath, "the dook tells me so." "Never mind him or the dook; he is drabbed; come away, or we shall be grabbed--both of us." "One more blow, I know where his head lies." "You are mad, bebee; leave the fellow--Gorgio avella." {177} And thereupon the females hurried away.