‘That was right, bebee, I think I should have done the same.’

’I think you would, child; but what was the profit of it?  The whole party makes an almighty of this gorgio, lets him into their ways, says prayers of his making, till things come to such a pass that my own daughter says to me, “I shall buy myself a veil and fan, and treat myself to a play and sacrament.”  “Don’t,” says I; says she, “I should like for once in my life to be courtesied to as a Christian gentlewoman."’

‘Very foolish of her, bebee.’

’Wasn’t it, child?  Where was I?  At the fan and sacrament; with a heavy heart I put seven score miles between us, came back to the hairy ones, and found them over-given to gorgious companions; said I, “Foolish manners is catching; all this comes of that there gorgio.”  Answers the child Leonora, “Take comfort, bebee; I hate the gorgios as much as you do."’

‘And I say so again, bebee, as much or more.’

’Time flows on, I engage in many matters, in most miscarry.  Am sent to prison; says I to myself, I am become foolish.  Am turned out of prison, and go back to the hairy ones, who receive me not over courteously; says I, for their unkindness, and my own foolishness, all the thanks to that gorgio.  Answers to me the child, “I wish I could set eyes upon him, bebee."’

‘I did so, bebee; go on.’

’"How shall I know him, bebee?” says the child.  “Young and gray, tall, and speaks Romanly.”  Runs to me the child, and says, “I’ve found him, bebee.”  “Where, child?” says I.  “Come with me, bebee,” says the child.  “That’s he,” says I, as I looked at my gentleman through the hedge.’

‘Ha, ha! bebee, and here he lies, poisoned like a hog.’

‘You have taken drows, sir,’ said Mrs. Herne; ’do you hear, sir? drows; tip him a stave, child, of the song of poison.’

And thereupon the girl clapped her hands, and sang—­

   ’The Rommany churl
   And the Rommany girl
   To-morrow shall hie
   To poison the sty,
   And bewitch on the mead
   The farmer’s steed.’

‘Do you hear that, sir?’ said Mrs. Herne; ’the child has tipped you a stave of the song of poison:  that is, she has sung it Christianly, though perhaps you would like to hear it Romanly; you were always fond of what was Roman.  Tip it him Romanly, child.’

’He has heard it Romanly already, bebee; ’twas by that I found him out, as I told you.’

’Halloo, sir, are you sleeping? you have taken drows; the gentleman makes no answer.  God give me patience!’

’And what if he doesn’t, bebee; isn’t he poisoned like a hog?  Gentleman, indeed! why call him gentleman? if he ever was one he’s broke, and is now a tinker, a worker of blue metal.’

’That’s his way, child, to-day a tinker, to-morrow something else; and as for being drabbed, I don’t know what to say about it.’

’Not drabbed! what do you mean, bebee? but look there, bebee; ha, ha, look at the gentleman’s motions.’