'She is taken up with her husband,' he said to himself; 'it is as well
that I am going to take the child away, as she will have no thought to
give her now.'
And then he went into the cottage, with a tap on the open door to
announce his presence.
'Good evening, Mrs Gray,' he said in a subdued voice, so as not to wake
the baby. But he might have spared himself this precaution, for the
next glance showed him that the cradle was empty.
'Bless you, Mr Robins,' the woman said, 'you give me quite a start,
coming in so quiet like. But, there! I 'm all of a tremble, the
leastest thing do terrify me. You might knock me down with a feather.
First one thing and then another! The master yesterday and the baby
to-day!'
'What!' he said, so sharp and sudden, that it stopped the flow of words
for a moment. 'What do you mean! Is the baby in bed up-stairs?
What's the matter? It's not the scarlatina? Not'----
'Bless you!' she said, 'why I thought you'd a-knowed. It ain't the
scarlatina; the baby was as well and bonnie as ever when she went. She
've agone! her mother come and fetch her this very day, and took her
right off. Ay! but she were pleased to see how the little thing had
got on, and she said as she 'd never forget my kindness, and how she'd
bring her to see me whenever she come this way. But, there! I do miss
her terrible. Why, it's 'most worse than the master himself.'
The organist hardly listened to what she was saying after the fact of
the mother having come and fetched her away. Edith had come for her
baby! How had she known? Why had she done it to-day? Could Jane have
let her know? And had she come so quickly to take the child herself to
her old home? His first impulse was to turn and hasten home; perhaps
Edith and Zoe were there already, and would find him absent. But he
could not go without a word to Mrs Gray, who was wiping her eyes in her
apron and unconsciously rocking the empty cradle.
'You will often see her,' he said consolingly; 'she will not be very
far away.'
'Oh, I don't know about that; them gypsies go all over the place, up
and down the country, and they don't always come back for the fairs;
though she says as they don't often miss Smithurst.'
'Gypsies?' he said puzzled.
'Ay, the mother 's a gypsy sure enough, and I've said it all along, and
the child's the very image of her; there wasn't no doubt, when one saw
the two together, as they was mother and child.'
'Are you sure she was a gypsy?' He had often said in fun that Edith
was a regular little gypsy, but he would never have thought that any
one could really mistake her for one; and besides, Mrs Gray must have
known Edith well enough at any rate by sight in the old days; and
changed as she was, it was not beyond all recognition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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