it was the tinker;
before I could cry with joy I was whisked away, and I found myself in
Ely's big church, which was chock full of people to hear the dean preach,
and all eyes were turned to the big pulpit; and presently I heard them
say, "There he mounts!" and I looked up to the big pulpit, and, lo! the
tinker was in the pulpit, and he raised his arm and began to preach.
Anon, I found myself at York again, just as the drop fell, and I looked
up, and I saw not the tinker, but my own self hanging in the air.'

'You are going mad, bebee; if you want to hasten him, take your stick and
poke him in the eye.'

'That will be of no use, child, the dukkerin tells me so; but I will try
what I can do. Halloo, tinker! you must introduce yourself into a quiet
family, and raise confusion--must you? You must steal its language, and,
what was never done before, write it down Christianly--must you? Take
that--and that'; and she stabbed violently with her stick towards the end
of the tent.

'That's right, bebee, you struck his face; now once more, and let it be
in the eye. Stay, what's that? get up, bebee.'

'What's the matter, child?'

'Some one is coming, come away.'

'Let me make sure of him, child; he'll be up yet.' And thereupon Mrs.
Herne, rising, leaned forward into the tent, and, supporting herself
against the pole, took aim in the direction of the farther end. 'I will
thrust out his eye,' said she; and, lunging with her stick, she would
probably have accomplished her purpose had not at that moment the pole of
the tent given way, whereupon she fell to the ground, the canvas falling
upon her and her intended victim.

'Here's a pretty affair, bebee,' screamed the girl.

'He'll get up, yet,' said Mrs. Herne, from beneath the canvas.

'Get up!--get up yourself; where are you? where is your--Here, there,
bebee, here's the door; there, make haste, they are coming.'

'He'll get up yet,' said Mrs. Herne, recovering her breath; 'the dook
tells me so.'

'Never mind him or the dook; he is drabbed; come away, or we shall be
grabbed--both of us.'

'One more blow, I know where his head lies.'

'You are mad, bebee; leave the fellow--gorgio avella.'

And thereupon the females hurried away.

A vehicle of some kind was evidently drawing nigh; in a little time it
came alongside of the place where lay the fallen tent, and stopped
suddenly. There was a silence for a moment, and then a parley ensued
between two voices, one of