ntion when she came to the camp. Forthwith
she passed back to the tent under the elm, to interview the deposed
queen. Here, she found Gentilla Stanley placing her goods in an untidy
bundle on the back of a large gray donkey, which was her private
property. The old creature's eyes were red with weeping and her gray
hair had fallen down, so that she presented a somewhat wild appearance.
This, in connection with her employment, reminded Miss Greeby--whose
reading was wide--of a similar scene in Borrow's "Lavengro," when Mrs.
Pentulengro's mother shifted herself. And for the moment Mother
Cockleshell had just the hairy looks of Mrs. Hern, and also at the
moment, probably had the same amiable feelings.

Feeling that the old woman detested her successful rival, Miss Greeby
approached, guessing that now was the right moment to work on her mind,
and thus to learn what she could of Chaldea's underhand doings. She
quite expected a snub, as Gentilla could scarcely be expected to answer
questions when taken up with her own troubles. But the artful creature,
seeing by a side-glance that Miss Greeby was a wealthy Gentile lady,
dropped one of her almshouse curtseys when she approached, and bundled
up her hair. A change passed over her withered face, and Miss Greeby
found herself addressing not so much a fallen queen, as a respectable
old woman who had known better days.

"And a blessing on your sweet face, my angel," mumbled Mother
Cockleshell. "For a heart you have to feel for my sorrows."

"Here is a sign of my feelings," said Miss Greeby, handing over a
sovereign, for she rightly judged that the gypsy would only appreciate
this outward symbol of sympathy. "Now, what do you know of Pine's
murder?"

Mother Cockleshell, who was busy tying up the sovereign in a corner of
her respectable shawl, after biting it to make sure it was current gold,
looked up with a vacant expression. "Murder, my lady, and what should I
know of that?"

Miss Greeby looked at her straightly. "What does Chaldea know of it?"

A vicious pair of devils looked out of the decent widow's eyes in a
moment, and at once she became the Romany. "Hai! She knows, does she,
the drab! I hope to see her hanged."

"For what?"

"For killing of Hearne, may his bones rest sweetly."

Miss Greeby suppressed an exclamation. "She accuses Lady Agnes of laying
a trap by writing a letter, and says that Mr. Lambert fired the shot."

"Avali! Avali!" Mother Cockleshell nodded vig