in; for
all in a minute, just as we remember a dream, there came back to her the
dreadful events of yesterday. The gypsies, the dimly-seen room, the
flickering fire, Seraminta's dark face as she described the little shoe.
"Ours you'll be for ever." Could it possibly be true that she, Mary
Vallance, was the child of such people? What a dreadful thing! She did
not feel so frightened this morning, and, her natural spirit partly
returning after her night's rest, she was more inclined to believe that
Seraminta had spoken falsely. "If I told father all about it," she said
to herself, "I don't believe she'd dare to take me away." And yet, when
she thought it over, how could the woman have known about the shoe? And
besides, Rice's remark flashed across her, "brown as a berry," certainly
that would apply to Seraminta, she was a darker brown than anyone Mary
had ever seen. It was true, then, she really was a gypsy child, and if
so, they had a right to claim her if they wished. How could she escape
it? Her only chance lay in keeping perfect silence as they had told
her, and also in taking them the money she had promised this evening.
How much had she? Mary wondered. Her money-box, a small red
post-office, stood on the mantel-piece; she jumped out of bed and
counted the contents; more than usual, because she had been saving it up
for Jackie's present. Now it must all go to those wicked people, and
Jackie could have no present--Jackie, who was always so good to her, and
who had not grudged the savings of a whole year in pennies to buy her a
couple of white bantams. How unkind, how mean he would think it! Mary
gazed mournfully at the money-box. It was a great trial to her, for she
had a generous nature and was very fond of Jackie. Might she not leave
just a little in the box? But no--she dared not. Perhaps even now
there were dark eyes peering in at the window, and at night, who could
tell from what unexpected quarter Perrin might appear to take her away?
She must give them every penny of it. With a sigh she put all the money
back, dressed herself and went down-stairs. Mr Vallance was speaking
as she entered the breakfast-room, and she just caught these words:

"Such a fine fellow! I can't think how the wretches managed to kill him
without noise."

Mary stopped short and turned very white; she looked anxiously at Mrs
Vallance, who was pouring out tea. Was it Squire Chelwood they had
killed, or was it Hamlet?