blessings.'

All this clatter and clamour of harsh voices, mouthing the wild gipsies'
jargon, had no effect on Baltic. Seeing that he could gain nothing from
the mocking crowd, he pushed back one or two, who seemed disposed to be
affectionate with a view to robbing his pockets, and shouted loudly,
'Mother Jael! Mother Jael!' till the place rang with his roaring.

Before the gipsies could recover from their astonishment at this sudden
change of front, a dishevelled grey head was poked out from one of the
black tents, and a thin high voice piped, 'Dearie! lovey! Mother Jael be
here!'

'I thought I would bring you out of your burrow,' said Baltic, grimly,
as he strode towards her; 'in with you again, old Witch of Endor, and
let me follow.'

'Hindity-Mush!'[C] growled one or two, but the appearance of Mother
Jael, and a few words from her, sent the whole gang back to their idling
and working; while Baltic, quite undisturbed, dropped on all fours and
crawled into the black tent, at the tail of the hag. She croaked out a
welcome to her visitor, and squatting on a tumbled mattress, leered at
him like a foul old toad. Baltic sat down near the opening of the tent,
so as to get as much fresh air as possible, and also to watch Mother
Jael's face by the glimmer of light which crept in. Spreading his
handsome handkerchief on his knee, according to custom, and placing his
hat thereon, he looked straightly at the old hag, and spoke slowly.

[C] Hindity-Mush: a dirty creature.

'Do you know why I am here, old woman?' he demanded.

'Yes, dearie, yes! Ain't it yer forting as y' wan's tole? Oh, my pretty
one, you asks ole mother for a fair future! I knows! I knows!'

'You know wrong then!' retorted Baltic, coolly. 'I am one who has no
dealings with witches and familiar spirits. I ask you to tell me, not my
fortune--which lies in the hand of the Almighty--but the name of the man
who murdered the creature Jentham.'

Mother Jael made an odd whistling sound, and her cunning old face became
as expressionless as a mask. In a second, save for her wicked black
eyes, which smouldered like two sparks of fire under her drooping lids,
she became a picture of stupidity and senility. 'Bless 'ee, my pretty
master, I knows nought; all I knows I told the Gentiles yonder,' and the
hag pointed a crooked finger in the direction of Beorminster.

'Mother of the witches, you lie!' cried Baltic, in very good Romany.

The eyes of Mother Jael blazed u