Receiving no answer, he followed Shargar's gaze, and saw a strange
sight for London city.
In the middle of the crowd of vehicles, with an omnibus before them,
and a brewer's dray behind them, came a line of three donkey-carts,
heaped high with bundles and articles of gipsy-gear. The foremost
was conducted by a middle-aged woman of tall, commanding aspect, and
expression both cunning and fierce. She walked by the donkey's head
carrying a short stick, with which she struck him now and then, but
which she oftener waved over his head like the truncheon of an
excited marshal on the battle-field, accompanying its movements now
with loud cries to the animal, now with loud response to the chaff
of the omnibus conductor, the dray driver, and the tradesmen in
carts about her. She was followed by a very handsome,
olive-complexioned, wild-looking young woman, with her black hair
done up in a red handkerchief, who conducted her donkey more
quietly. Both seemed as much at home in the roar of Gracechurch
Street as if they had been crossing a wild common. A
loutish-looking young man brought up the rear with the third donkey.
>From the bundles on the foremost cart peeped a lovely, fair-haired,
English-looking child.
Robert took all this in in a moment. The same moment Shargar's
spell was broken.
'Lord, it is my mither!' he cried, and darted under a horse's neck
into the middle of the ruck.
He needled his way through till he reached the woman.
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