arms she shook with fear.
She reached it; no one in sight; all the four roads silent and bare; and
having hidden her packet tremblingly under the broad stone she turned to
go, with guilty footsteps, when suddenly, from the tree above, there
fell at her feet a small screwed-up piece of paper. She looked up;
amongst the thick leafy branches in the very heart of the oak there was
a freckled face peering down at her. It was the youth Bennie. She
stood motionless with terror, staring at him, and he pointed at the
piece of paper, making signs that she was to pick it up. As she stooped
to do so there sounded in the distance the steady trot of a horse, and
looking round the tree she saw, coming along the road from Dorminster, a
sturdy grey cob with a broad-shouldered man on his back. Even at that
distance Mary knew the cob and she knew the man. It was Squire
Chelwood: Bennie's quick eye saw him too.

"Hide!" he said, in a low threatening voice, and pointed to a gap in the
hedge opposite.

Mary's brain reeled. Should she stop Mr Chelwood and betray Bennie?
But then the gypsies would claim her, she would belong to them, they
would take her away. Anything was better than that. She jumped through
the gap, and crouched down behind the hedge.

On came the squire, nearer and nearer, his square shoulders rising and
falling with his horse's movement, his jolly brown face puckered with a
frown of annoyance; no doubt he had been trying to find out the thieves.
How strong he looked, how ready he would be to help her, how glad to
know where Bennie was! Now he was passing close, close to her
hiding-place; if she sprang out now she could stop him. But no, she
could not; in another minute it was too late, the cob had turned briskly
into the Wensdale Road, and the sound of his hoofs soon became faint in
the distance.

She now saw Bennie slide nimbly to the ground, cast one quick glance
round, and snatch the money from under the stone; then stooping low, he
ran swiftly along under the hedge in the direction of Maskells, like
some active wild animal, and disappeared.

Left alone, Mary also crept out of her hiding-place and took her way
back to the vicarage as fast as she could. Humble and crest-fallen, how
different to the Mary of two days ago, who had such lofty ambitions!
How foolish now seemed those vain dreams and fancies! No "Lady Mary,"
but a gypsy child; it was a change indeed. She got home before service
was over, thre