“Yet you would fain hear of a certain Colonel, I warrant you, whom certain unhappy circumstances have separated from his family; you would give better than silver if I could assure you that you would see him in a day or two—ay, perhaps, sooner.” “I know nothing of what you speak, good woman; if you want alms, there is a piece of silver—it is all I have in my purse.” “It were pity that I should take it,” said the female; “and yet give it me—for the princess in the fairy tale must ever deserve, by her generosity, the bounty of the benevolent fairy, before she is rewarded by her protection.” “Take it—take it—give me my pitcher,” said Alice, “and begone,—yonder comes one of my father’s servants.—What, ho!—Joceline—Joceline!” The old fortune-teller hastily dropped something into the pitcher as she restored it to Alice Lee, and, plying her long limbs, disappeared speedily under cover of the wood. Bevis turned, and barked, and showed some inclination to harass the retreat of this suspicious person, yet, as if uncertain, ran towards Joliffe, and fawned on him, as to demand his advice and encouragement. Joceline pacified the animal, and, coming up to his young lady, asked her, with surprise, what was the matter, and whether she had been frightened? Alice made light of her alarm, for which, indeed, she could not have assigned any very competent reason, for the manners of the woman, though bold and intrusive, were not menacing. She only said she had met a fortune-teller by Rosamond’s Well, and had had some difficulty in shaking her off. “Ah, the gipsy thief,” said Joceline, “how well she scented there was food in the pantry!—they have noses like ravens, these strollers. Look you, Mistress Alice, you shall not see a raven or a carrion-crow in all the blue sky for a mile round you; but let a sheep drop suddenly down on the green-sward, and before the poor creature’s dead you shall see a dozen of such guests croaking, as if inviting each other to the banquet.—Just so it is with these sturdy beggars. You will see few enough of them when there’s nothing to give, but when hough’s in the pot, they will have share on’t.” “You are so proud of your fresh supply of provender,” said Alice, “that you suspect all of a design on’t. I do not think this woman will venture near your kitchen, Joceline.” “It will be best for her health,” said Joceline, “lest I give her a ducking for digestion.—But give me the pitcher, Mistress Alice—meeter I bear it than you.—How now? what jingles at the bottom? have you lifted the pebbles as well as the water?” “I think the woman dropped something into the pitcher,” said Alice. “Nay, we must look to that, for it is like to be a charm, and we have enough of the devil’s ware about Woodstock already—we will not spare for the water—I can run back and fill the pitcher.” He poured out the water upon the grass, and at the bottom of the pitcher was found a gold ring, in which was set a ruby, apparently of some value.