lady’s opinion. When the man put his two bare arms around the girl’s waist and began embracing her quite passionately, Aurora felt sure they were man and wife, and was petrified lest they begin further intimacies. He was muttering softly in her ears, kissing her shoulders, his hands caressing her sides and, oh dear! She turned her head quickly and calculated the distance to the meadow and safety.
When she looked back, the man had stopped and was telling the girl to go. She pulled off her kerchief and tossed her black tangle of curls back, running her fingers through them while regarding him with a challenging smile.
“Go on, before I forget I’m a gentleman,” he said, and gave her a pat on the derrière.
Gentleman! Some gentleman! The girl tossed her shoulders, shaking the blouse loose over one, and left, her hips swaying provocatively. The man looked after her with open admiration at her performance. One last inviting glance was cast over the retreating shoulder. The man took a single pace after her, then stopped and returned to his toilette, shaking his head and muttering something. He fumbled in his pocket for a comb, combed his hair, put on his shirt and began stuffing the shirttails into his trousers. He then grabbed the reins of his mount, and Aurora breathed a great sigh of relief. He was going. Her relief was short-lived. A dog, a mutt of no discernible breed, came trotting from the woods, barking strenuously.
“Shut up, Rags. Do you want to announce to the world we’re here?” the man said.
It seemed rather a game the mutt had in mind. He picked up a stick and presented it, tail wagging, to his master. The man took it and tossed it across the stream, where it landed not three yards from Aurora’s feet. The mutt bounded joyfully into the water, out the other side, and retrieved the stick. Then his keen sense of smell sent his ears perking up. He sniffed the ground and spotted her, cowering behind the tree.
The man on the other side of the stream whistled. “Come on, Rags,” he said.
The dog stayed where he was, the stick forgotten, his tail wagging wildly. He emitted a sharp yap in the direction of his quarry, dropping his stick in his excitement.
“What is it? Cornered a rabbit? Too bad I don’t have my guns with me.” This was at least a relief. She wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if death was to be her fate. Her heart was in her throat, and she risked a peep from behind the tree. The gypsy was staring hard at her, and in a flash he was bounding across the stream.
“Well, well. What have we here?” he asked in a playful way, while his black eyes raked her from head to toe. “My lucky day. Girls popping out at me from all sides.” She didn’t say a word, but stood frozen while the dog yapped delightedly at his find.
“Lucky I just made my toilette,” he continued, rather enjoying her fright, she thought. He looked around carefully and shushed the dog. Privacy, concealment, was his wish, and she trembled to consider why this should be. In her dismay the flowers fell on the ground in a heap.
The gypsy looked at them and laughed. “All your labour wasted. But then you had a free show, so your afternoon was not entirely in vain. I usually charge a fee for performing, you know,” he said, and put his fingers on her chin. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? She couldn’t get a single syllable out of her constricted throat.
“Before you succumb to an apoplexy, my girl, let me tell you I have just passed up a more appetizing armful than you will ever be, and am not about to ravish you. Where do you come from?”
She pointed to the west, unable to speak.
“Where? The Dower House?”
She nodded. “Do you work there?” he asked.
“No,” she squeaked out.
He regarded her dimity frock. “Not Lady Raiker, by any chance?” he asked ironically.
“Yes!” she said, knowing, or feeling at least, that he would not dare molest Lady Raiker.
“Isn’t that a coincidence,
When she looked back, the man had stopped and was telling the girl to go. She pulled off her kerchief and tossed her black tangle of curls back, running her fingers through them while regarding him with a challenging smile.
“Go on, before I forget I’m a gentleman,” he said, and gave her a pat on the derrière.
Gentleman! Some gentleman! The girl tossed her shoulders, shaking the blouse loose over one, and left, her hips swaying provocatively. The man looked after her with open admiration at her performance. One last inviting glance was cast over the retreating shoulder. The man took a single pace after her, then stopped and returned to his toilette, shaking his head and muttering something. He fumbled in his pocket for a comb, combed his hair, put on his shirt and began stuffing the shirttails into his trousers. He then grabbed the reins of his mount, and Aurora breathed a great sigh of relief. He was going. Her relief was short-lived. A dog, a mutt of no discernible breed, came trotting from the woods, barking strenuously.
“Shut up, Rags. Do you want to announce to the world we’re here?” the man said.
It seemed rather a game the mutt had in mind. He picked up a stick and presented it, tail wagging, to his master. The man took it and tossed it across the stream, where it landed not three yards from Aurora’s feet. The mutt bounded joyfully into the water, out the other side, and retrieved the stick. Then his keen sense of smell sent his ears perking up. He sniffed the ground and spotted her, cowering behind the tree.
The man on the other side of the stream whistled. “Come on, Rags,” he said.
The dog stayed where he was, the stick forgotten, his tail wagging wildly. He emitted a sharp yap in the direction of his quarry, dropping his stick in his excitement.
“What is it? Cornered a rabbit? Too bad I don’t have my guns with me.” This was at least a relief. She wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if death was to be her fate. Her heart was in her throat, and she risked a peep from behind the tree. The gypsy was staring hard at her, and in a flash he was bounding across the stream.
“Well, well. What have we here?” he asked in a playful way, while his black eyes raked her from head to toe. “My lucky day. Girls popping out at me from all sides.” She didn’t say a word, but stood frozen while the dog yapped delightedly at his find.
“Lucky I just made my toilette,” he continued, rather enjoying her fright, she thought. He looked around carefully and shushed the dog. Privacy, concealment, was his wish, and she trembled to consider why this should be. In her dismay the flowers fell on the ground in a heap.
The gypsy looked at them and laughed. “All your labour wasted. But then you had a free show, so your afternoon was not entirely in vain. I usually charge a fee for performing, you know,” he said, and put his fingers on her chin. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? She couldn’t get a single syllable out of her constricted throat.
“Before you succumb to an apoplexy, my girl, let me tell you I have just passed up a more appetizing armful than you will ever be, and am not about to ravish you. Where do you come from?”
She pointed to the west, unable to speak.
“Where? The Dower House?”
She nodded. “Do you work there?” he asked.
“No,” she squeaked out.
He regarded her dimity frock. “Not Lady Raiker, by any chance?” he asked ironically.
“Yes!” she said, knowing, or feeling at least, that he would not dare molest Lady Raiker.
“Isn’t that a coincidence,
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