about ten milesaway. She had managed, with some tact, to obtain a certain amount ofinformation from the delighted gipsy girl. The girl told Annie that shewas very glad they were going from here; that this was a very dullplace, and that they would not have stayed so long but for MotherRachel, who for some reasons of her own, had refused to stir.
Here the girl drew herself up short, and coloured under her dark skin.But Annie's tact never failed. She even yawned a little, and seemedscarcely to hear the girl's words.
Now, in the distance, she followed these people.
In her disguise, uncomfortable as it was, she felt tolerably safe.Should any of the people in Lavender House happen to pass her on theway, they would never recognise Annie Forest in this small gipsy maiden.When she did approach the gipsies' dwelling she might have some hope ofpassing as one of themselves. The only one whom she had really to fearwas the girl with whom she had changed clothes, and she trusted to herwits to keep out of this young person's way.
When Zillah, her old gipsy nurse, had charmed her long ago with gipsylegends and stories, Annie had always begged to hear about the fairEnglish children whom the gipsies stole, and Zillah had let her intosome secrets which partly accounted for the fact that so few of thesechildren are ever recovered.
She walked very fast now; her depression was gone, a great excitement, agreat longing, a great hope, keeping her up. She forgot that she hadeaten nothing since breakfast: she forgot everything in all the worldnow but her great love for little Nan, and her desire to lay down hervery life, if necessary, to rescue Nan from the terrible fate whichawaited her if she was brought up as a gipsy's child.
Annie, however, was unaccustomed to such long walks, and besides, recentevents had weakened her, and by the time she reached Sefton--for herroad lay straight through this little town--she was so hot and thirstythat she looked around her anxiously to find some place of refreshment.
In an unconscious manner she paused before a restaurant, where she andseveral other girls of Lavender House had more than once been regaledwith buns and milk.
The remembrance of the fresh milk and the nice buns came gratefullybefore the memory of the tired child now. Forgetting her queer attire,she went into the shop, and walked boldly up to the counter.
Annie's disguise, however, was good, and the young woman who wasserving, instead of bending forward with the usual gracious "What can Iget for you, miss?" said very sharply--
"Go away at once, little girl; we don't allow beggars here; leave theshop instantly. No, I have nothing for you."
Annie was about to reply rather hotly, for she had an idea that even agipsy's money might purchase buns and milk, when she was suddenlystartled, and almost terrified into betraying herself, by encounteringthe gentle and fixed stare of Miss Jane Bruce, who had been leaning overthe counter and talking to one of the shop-women when Annie entered.
"Here is a penny for you, little girl," she said. "You can get a nicehunch of stale bread for a penny in the shop at the corner of the HighStreet."
Annie's eyes flashed back at the little lady, her lips quivered, and,clasping the penny, she rushed out of the shop.
"My dear," said Miss Jane, turning to her sister, "did you notice theextraordinary likeness that little gipsy girl bore to Annie Forest?"
Miss Agnes sighed. "Not particularly, love," she answered; "but Iscarcely looked at her. I wonder if our dear little Annie is anyhappier than she was. Ah, I think we have done here. Good afternoon,Mrs Tremlett."
The little old ladies, trotted off, giving no more thoughts to the gipsychild.
Poor Annie almost ran down the street, and never paused till she reacheda shop of much humbler appearance, where she was served with some coldslices of German sausage, some indifferent bread and butter, and milk byno means over-good. The coarse fare, and the rough people whosurrounded her, made the poor child feel both sick and frightened. Shefound she could only keep up her character by remaining almost silent,for the moment she opened her lips people turned round and stared ather.
She paid for her meal, however, and presently found herself at the otherside of Sefton, and in a part of the country which was comparativelystrange to her. The gipsies' present encampment was about a mile awayfrom the town of Oakley, a much larger place than Sefton. Sefton andOakley lay about six miles apart. Annie trudged bravely on, her headaching; for, of course, as a gipsy girl, she could use no parasol toshade her from the sun. At last the comparative cool of the eveningarrived, and the little girl gave a sigh of relief, and looked forwardto her bed and supper at Oakley. She had made up her mind to sleepthere, and to go to the gipsies' encampment very early in the morning.It was quite dark by the time she reached Oakley, and she was now sotired, and her feet so blistered from walking in the gipsy girl's roughshoes, that she could scarcely proceed another step. The noise and thesize of Oakley, too, bewildered and frightened her. She had learnt alesson in Sefton, and dared not venture into the more respectablestreets. How could she sleep in those hot, common, close houses?Surely it would be better for her to lie down under a cool hedge-row--there could be no real cold on this lovely summer's night, and the hourswould quickly pass, and the time soon arrive when she must go boldly insearch of Nan. She resolved to sleep in a hayfield which took her fancyjust outside the town, and she only went into Oakley for the purpose ofbuying some bread and milk.
Annie was so far fortunate as to get a refreshing draught of really goodmilk from a woman who stood by a cottage door, and who gave her a pieceof girdle-cake to eat with it.
"You're one of the gipsies, my dear?" said the woman. "I saw thempassing in their caravans an hour back. No doubt you are for taking upyour old quarters in the copse, just alongside of Squire Thompson's longacre field. How is it you are not with the rest of them, child?"
"I was late in starting," said Annie. "Can you tell me the best way toget from here to the long acre field?"
"Oh! you take that turn-stile, child, and keep in the narrow path by thecornfields; it's two miles and a half from here as the crow flies. No,no, my dear, I don't want your pennies; but you might humour my littlegirl here by telling her fortune--she's wonderful taken by the gipsyfolk."
Annie coloured painfully. The child came forward, and she crossed herhand with a piece of silver. She looked at the little palm and mutteredsomething about being rich and fortunate, and marrying a prince indisguise, and having no trouble whatever.
"Eh! but that's a fine lot, is yours, Peggy," said the gratified mother.
Peggy however, aged nine, had a wiser head on her young shoulders.
"She didn't tell no proper fortune," she said disparagingly, when Annieleft the cottage. "She didn't speak about no crosses, and no bitingdisappointments, and no bleeding wounds. I don't believe in her, Idon't. I like fortunes mixed, not all one way; them fortunes ain'tnatural, and I don't believe she's no proper gipsy girl."
CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
HESTER.
At Lavender House the confusion, the terror, and the dismay were great.For several hours the girls seemed quite to lose their heads, and justwhen, under Mrs Willis's and the other teachers' calmness anddetermination, they were being restored to discipline and order, theexcitement and alarm broke out afresh when some one brought Annie'slittle note to Mrs Willis, and the school discovered that she also wasmissing.
On this occasion no one did doubt her motives; disobedient as her actwas, no one wasted words of blame on her. All, from the head-mistressto the smallest child in the school, knew that it was love for littleNan that had taken Annie off; and the tears started to Mrs Willis'seyes when she first read the tiny note, and then placed it tenderly in,her desk. Hester's face became almost ashen in its hue when she heardwhat Annie had done.
"Annie has gone herself to bring back Nan to you, Hester," said Phyllis."It was I told her, and I know now by her face that she must have madeup her mind at once."
"Very disobedient of her to go," said Dora Russell; but no one took upDora's tone, and Mary Pri
ce said, after a pause--
"Disobedient or not, it was brave--it was really very plucky."
"It is my opinion," said Nora, "that if anyone in the world can findlittle Nan it will be Annie. You remember. Phyllis, how often she hastalked to us about gipsies, and what a lot she knows about them?"
"Oh, yes; she'll be better than fifty policemen," echoed several girls;and then two or three young faces were turned toward Hester, and somevoice said almost scornfully--"You'll have to love Annie now; you'llhave to admit that there is something good in our Annie when she bringsyour little Nan home again."
Hester's lips quivered; she tried to speak, but a sudden burst of tearscame from her instead. She walked slowly out of