The Little Minister. J. M. Barrie

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The Little Minister - J. M. Barrie

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see if you can find the sheriff. I want him. And

       Davidson—"

      The captain paused.

      "Yes," he muttered, and the old soldier marvelled at his words, "it is better. Davidson, lock this door on the outside."

      Davidson did as he was ordered, and again the Egyptian was left alone with Halliwell.

      "Afraid of a woman!" she said, contemptuously, though her heart sank when she heard the key turn in the lock.

      "I admit it," he answered, calmly.

      He walked up and down the room, and she sat silently Watching him.

      "That story of yours about the sheriff was not true," he said at last.

      "I suspect it wasna," answered the Egyptian coolly, "Hae you been thinking about it a' this time? Captains I could tell you what you're thinking now. You're wishing it had been true, so that the ane o' you couldna lauch at the other."

      "Silence!" said the captain, and not another word would he speak until he heard the sheriff coming up the stair. The Egyptian trembled at his step, and rose in desperation.

      "Why is the door locked?" cried the sheriff, shaking it.

      "All right," answered Halliwell; "the key is on your side."

      At that moment the Egyptian knocked the lamp off the table, and the room was at once in darkness. The officer sprang at her, and, catching her by the skirt, held on.

      "Why are you in darkness?" asked the sheriff, as he entered.

      "Shut the door," cried Halliwell. "Put your back to it."

      "Don't tell me the woman has escaped?"

      "I have her, I have her! She capsized the lamp, the little jade.

       Shut the door."

      Still keeping firm hold of her, as he thought, the captain relit the lamp with his other hand. It showed an extraordinary scene. The door was shut, and the sheriff was guarding it. Halliwell was clutching the cloth of the bailie's seat. There was no Egyptian.

      A moment passed before either man found his tongue.

      "Open the door. After her!" cried Halliwell.

      But the door would not open. The Egyptian had fled and locked it behind her.

      What the two men said to each other, it would not be fitting to tell. When Davidson, who had been gossiping at the corner of the town-house, released his captain and the sheriff, the gypsy had been gone for some minutes.

      "But she shan't escape us," Riach cried, and hastened out to assist in the pursuit.

      Halliwell was in such a furious temper that he called up Davidson and admonished him for neglect of duty.

       Table of Contents

      3 A.m.—MONSTROUS AUDACITY OF THE WOMAN.

      Not till the stroke of three did Gavin turn homeward, with the legs of a ploughman, and eyes rebelling against over-work. Seeking to comfort his dejected people, whose courage lay spilt on the brae, he had been in as many houses as the policemen. The soldiers marching through the wynds came frequently upon him, and found it hard to believe that he was always the same one. They told afterwards that Thrums was remarkable for the ferocity of its women, and the number of its little ministers. The morning was nipping cold, and the streets were deserted, for the people had been ordered within doors. As he crossed the Roods, Gavin saw a gleam of red-coats. In the back wynd he heard a bugle blown. A stir in the Banker's close spoke of another seizure. At the top of the school wynd two policeman, of whom one was Wearyworld, stopped the minister with the flash of a lantern.

      "We dauredna let you pass, sir," the Tilliedrum man said, "without a good look at you. That's the orders."

      "I hereby swear," said Wearyworld, authoritatively, "that this is no the Egyptian. Signed, Peter Spens, policeman, called by the vulgar, Wearyworld. Mr. Dishart, you can pass, unless you'll bide a wee and gie us your crack."

      "You have not found the gypsy, then?" Gavin asked.

      "No," the other policeman said, "but we ken she's within cry o' this very spot, and escape she canna."

      "What mortal man can do," Wearyworld said, "we're doing: ay, and mair, but she's auld wecht, and may find bilbie in queer places. Mr. Dishart, my official opinion is that this Egyptian is fearsomely like my snuff-spoon. I've kent me drap that spoon on the fender, and be beat to find it in an hour. And yet, a' the time I was sure it was there. This is a gey mysterious world, and women's the uncanniest things in't. It's hardly mous to think how uncanny they are."

      "This one deserves to be punished," Gavin said, firmly; "she incited the people to riot."

      "She did," agreed Weary world, who was supping ravenously on sociability; "ay, she even tried her tricks on me, so that them that kens no better thinks she fooled me. But she's cracky. To gie her her due, she's cracky, and as for her being a cuttie, you've said yoursel, Mr. Dishart, that we're all desperately wicked, But we're sair tried. Has it ever struck you that the trouts bites best on the Sabbath? God's critturs tempting decent men."

      "Come alang," cried the Tilliedrum man, impatiently.

      "I'm coming, but I maun give Mr. Dishart permission to pass first. Hae you heard, Mr. Dishart," Wearyworld whispered, "that the Egyptian diddled baith the captain and the shirra? It's my official opinion that she's no better than a roasted onion, the which, if you grip it firm, jumps out o' sicht, leaving its coat in your fingers. Mr. Dishart, you can pass."

      The policeman turned down the school wynd, and Gavin, who had already heard exaggerated accounts of the strange woman's escape from the town-house, proceeded along the Tenements. He walked in the black shadows of the houses, though across the way there was the morning light.

      In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had, as it were, put on the black cap; but now, even though he shook his head angrily with every thought of her, the scene in Windyghoul glimmered before his eyes. Sometimes when he meant to frown he only sighed, and then having sighed he shook himself. He was unpleasantly conscious of his right hand, which had flung the divit. Ah, she was shameless, and it would be a bright day for Thrums that saw the last of her. He hoped the policemen would succeed in—. It was the gladsomeness of innocence that he had seen dancing in the moonlight. A mere woman could not be like that. How soft—. And she had derided him; he, the Auld Licht minister of Thrums, had been flouted before his people by a hussy. She was without reverence, she knew no difference between an Auld Licht minister, whose duty it was to speak and hers to listen, and herself. This woman deserved to be—. And the look she cast behind her as she danced and sang! It was sweet, so wistful; the presence of purity had silenced him. Purity! Who had made him fling that divit? He would think no more of her. Let it suffice that he knew what she was. He would put her from his thoughts. Was it a ring on her finger?

      Fifty yards in front of him Gavin saw the road

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