A Little Gipsy Lass by Gordon Stables

In this day's climb Antony could not help admiring the strength and agility of his child-companion; she was indeed an infant prodigy, thanks perhaps to her very extraordinary training. With her, or compared to her, Blake hardly felt fit. Perhaps neither did Wallace, who zigzagged back and fore to make the ascent more easy, as dogs always do when climbing. But they gained the summit at last, and only mountaineers know the joy of resting a while on a hill-top.

Wallace lay down to pant, with half a yard more or less of pink tongue hanging over his right jowl, and Antony threw himself on the ground. No heather here, hardly even moss, and a strong wind blowing.

Antony was for a time too tired to talk much; but he asked a question now and then, and Lotty answered him often quaintly enough -- for instance, when he said, 'I have not seen your mother yet, Lotty.'

'I never had a mother, Mr Blake,' she innocently made answer.

'But, child, everyone must have had a mother.'

'Ye-es. At least I suppose so. But I think my mother must have ceased to be a property some time before I came.'

'Do you love your father, Lotty?'

'Except when he beats me.'

The child was lying back against recumbent Wallace, and on her bare arm above the elbow Antony thought he saw a wale. He seized her by the hand and uncovered the streak.

'Lotty,' he said, 'who struck you with a cane? And, Lotty, I saw a blue mark on your leg while in the boat. Who kicked you, child?'

'Father. Oh, don't tell! He'd kill me. And I'm only a property, and sometimes so awkward and naughty. ' Her eyes were swimming in tears. 'I'm sure I have a cold,' she said, wiping them. 'But you won't tell father, ever, ever, ever?'

'Never, never, _never_,' promised Antony.

She grew calmer and happier now, and told him all the story of her young life as far as she knew it, and a deal about her many strange wanderings from the silvery Tweed to the rapid Spey with the Queerest Show.

It was a fascinating story, but there was much sorrow in it; and the tiny lace handkerchief was quite wet before she finished.

'How old is Wallace?'

'Oh, only a year; but he is mine -- my friend, although of course he is only a property.'

'And Skeleton and Mary?'

'They've always been with us. I should die if they left. Will you stop long, Mr Blake? Do; and Mrs Pendlebury and I will try to make you happy -- especially I.'

'You droll child! But won't your fairy godmother be expecting us?'

Crona came to her cottage-door to welcome them. She wore the 'mutch,' but was daintily dressed to receive company. Close by was a little shed or bower entirely thatched with green rushes; and underneath this, on a table covered by a snow-white cloth a most dainty repast was laid out, and the witch herself was asked by Antony to preside.