’He is sick, child, sure enough.  Ho, ho! sir, you have taken drows; what, another throe! writhe, sir, writhe; the hog died by the drow of gypsies; I saw him stretched at evening.  That’s yourself, sir.  There is no hope, sir, no help, you have taken drow; shall I tell you your fortune, sir, your dukkerin?  God bless you, pretty gentleman, much trouble will you have to suffer, and much water to cross; but never mind, pretty gentleman, you shall be fortunate at the end, and those who hate shall take off their hats to you.’

‘Hey, bebee!’ cried the girl; ’what is this? what do you mean? you have blessed the gorgio!’

’Blessed him! no, sure; what did I say?  Oh, I remember, I’m mad; well, I can’t help it, I said what the dukkerin dook told me; woe’s me, he’ll get up yet.’

‘Nonsense, bebee!  Look at his motions, he’s drabbed, spite of dukkerin.’

’Don’t say so, child; he’s sick, ’tis true, but don’t laugh at dukkerin, only folks do that that know no better.  I, for one, will never laugh at the dukkerin dook.  Sick again; I wish he was gone.’

’He’ll soon be gone, bebee; let’s leave him.  He’s as good as gone; look there, he’s dead.’

‘No, he’s not, he’ll get up—­I feel it; can’t we hasten him?’

’Hasten him! yes, to be sure; set the dog upon him.  Here, juggal, look in there, my dog.’

The dog made its appearance at the door of the tent, and began to bark and tear up the ground.

‘At him, juggal, at him; he wished to poison, to drab you.  Halloo!’

The dog barked violently, and seemed about to spring at my face, but retreated.

’The dog won’t fly at him, child; he flashed at the dog with his eye, and scared him.  He’ll get up.’

‘Nonsense, bebee! you make me angry; how should he get up?’

’The dook tells me so, and, what’s more, I had a dream.  I thought I was at York, standing amidst a crowd to see a man hung, and the crowd shouted, “There he comes!” and I looked, and, lo! it was the tinker; before I could cry with joy I was whisked away, and I found myself in Ely’s big church, which was chock full of people to hear the dean preach, and all eyes were turned to the big pulpit; and presently I heard them say, “There he mounts!” and I looked up to the big pulpit, and, lo! the tinker was in the pulpit, and he raised his arm and began to preach.  Anon, I found myself at York again, just as the drop fell, and I looked up, and I saw not the tinker, but my own self hanging in the air.’

’You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your stick and poke him in the eye.’

’That will be of no use, child, the dukkerin tells me so; but I will try what I can do.  Halloo, tinker! you must introduce yourself into a quiet family, and raise confusion—­must you?  You must steal its language, and, what was never done before, write it down Christianly—­must you?  Take that—­and that’; and she stabbed violently with her stick towards the end of the tent.