"Oh, I don't know," said the Egyptian, charitably. "I like it. I believe I admire bullies." "Did I bully you?" "I never knew such a bully. You quite frightened me." Gavin began to be less displeased with himself. "You are sure," inquired Babbie, "that you had no right to question me about the ring?" "Certain," answered Gavin. "Then I will tell you all about it," said Babbie, "for it is natural that you should want to know." He looked eagerly at her, and she had become serious and sad. "I must tell you at the same time," she said, "who I am, and then- -then we shall never see each other any more." "Why should you tell me?" cried Gavin, his hand rising to stop her. "Because you have a right to know," she replied, now too much in earnest to see that she was yielding a point. "I should prefer not to tell you; yet there is nothing wrong in my secret, and it may make you think of me kindly when I have gone away." "Don't speak in that way, Babbie, after you have forgiven me." "Did I hurt you? It was only because I know that you cannot trust me while I remain a mystery. I know you would try to trust me, but doubts would cross your mind. Yes, they would; they are the shadows that mysteries cast. Who can believe a gypsy if the odds are against her?" "I can," said Gavin; but she shook her head, and so would he had he remembered three recent sermons of his own preaching. "I had better tell you all," she said, with an effort. "It is my turn now to refuse to listen to you," exclaimed Gavin, who was only a chivalrous boy. "Babbie, I should like to hear your story, but until you want to tell it to me I will not listen to it. I have faith in your honour, and that is sufficient." It was boyish, but I am glad Gavin said it; and now Babbie admired something in him that deserved admiration. His faith, no doubt, made her a better woman. "I admit that I would rather tell you nothing just now," she said, gratefully. "You are sure you will never say again that you don't understand me?" "Quite sure," said Gavin, bravely. "And by-and-by you will offer to tell me of your free will?" "Oh, don't let us think of the future," answered Babbie. "Let us be happy for the moment." This had been the Egyptian's philosophy always, but it was ill- suited for Auld Licht ministers, as one of them was presently to discover. "I want to make one confession, though," Babbie continued, almost reluctantly. "When you were so nasty a little while ago, I didn't go back to Nanny's. I stood watching you from behind a tree, and then, for an excuse to come back, I--I poured out the water. Yes, and I told you another lie. I really came back to admit that it was all my fault, if I could not get you to say that it was yours. I am so glad you gave in first."