“You have no right to blame me for disturbing you,” she declared with warmth.

“I did not.  I only—­”

“You could have been a mile away by this time.  Nanny wanted more water.”

Babbie scrutinised the minister sharply as she made this statement.  Surely her conscience troubled her, for on his not answering immediately she said, “Do you presume to disbelieve me?  What could have made me return except to fill the pans again?”

“Nothing,” Gavin admitted eagerly, “and I assure you—­”

Babbie should have been grateful to his denseness, but it merely set her mind at rest.

“Say anything against me you choose,” she told him.  “Say it as brutally as you like, for I won’t listen.”

She stopped to hear his response to that, and she looked so cold that it almost froze on Gavin’s lips.

“I had no right,” he said, dolefully, “to speak to you as I did.”

“You had not,” answered the proud Egyptian.  She was looking away from him to show that his repentance was not even interesting to her.  However, she had forgotten already not to listen.

“What business is it of mine?” asked Gavin, amazed at his late presumption, “whether you are a gypsy or no?”

“None whatever.”

“And as for the ring—­”

Here he gave her an opportunity of allowing that his curiosity about the ring was warranted.  She declined to help him, however, and so he had to go on.

“The ring is yours,” he said, “and why should you not wear it?”

“Why, indeed?”

“I am afraid I have a very bad temper.”

He paused for a contradiction, but she nodded her head in agreement.

“And it is no wonder,” he continued, “that you think me a—­a brute.”

“I’m sure it is not.”

“But, Babbie, I want you to know that I despise myself for my base suspicions.  No sooner did I see them than I loathed them and myself for harbouring them.  Despite this mystery, I look upon you as a noble-hearted girl.  I shall always think of you so.”

This time Babbie did not reply.

“That was all I had to say,” concluded Gavin, “except that I hope you will not punish Nanny for my sins.  Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” said the Egyptian, who was looking at the well.

The minister’s legs could not have heard him give the order to march, for they stood waiting.

“I thought,” said the Egyptian, after a moment, “that you said you were going.”

“I was only—­brushing my hat,” Gavin answered with dignity.  “You want me to go?”

She bowed, and this time he did set off.

“You can go if you like,” she remarked now.

He turned at this.

“But you said—­” he began, diffidently.

“No, I did not,” she answered, with indignation.

He could see her face at last.

“You—­you are crying!” he exclaimed, in bewilderment.