The Little Minister Page #6

And your lady.

We dare not allow

anyone to pass

Without knowing

who they are.

You haven't found

the gypsy, then?

No, ma'am, but we have her closed in.

We'll get her soon.

I thought I might be

able to help

Some of these

unhappy people,

But I could do so little. Sadly little.

It's no scene for a lady,

ma'am, but your husband-

Uh-

Did you say something, mr. Dishart?

Yes, i

- My dear, I quite agree with you.

So we needn't detain

the captain.

I'm only

a sergeant, ma'am.

Oh, indeed.

And how long are you

To remain in thrums?

Just a few hours,

mrs. Dishart.

If the gypsy girl had

not given so much trouble,

We might have been

gone by now.

Oh, yes.

Well, i'm sure

She'll never slip through

your fingers, sergeant.

Sergeant, I must-

You must indeed,

dear.

You're sadly tired.

Good night,

sergeant.

Your servant,

mrs. Dishart,

Your servant, sir.

But-

Come, love.

You woman.

It was beautiful.

It was iniquitous,

And I a minister.

You can't help that.

No, I could not

help it.

No blame attaches to

me. No, no, no, no, no.

I meant you couldn't

help being a minister.

Now, you could've

helped saving me,

And I thank you

so much.

Don't dare to thank me.

I forbid you to say

that I saved you.

I did my best to hand

you over to the soldiers.

Why didn't you

hand me over, then?

All you had

to say was,

"This is the person

you're in search of. "

I didn't have my hand over your mouth.

Oh, it's all over, and no one will know.

You're not angry

with me, are you?

Angry?

Angry?

Oh, I was afraid

you were.

No, they're

not gone.

It's not yet

too late.

Why don't you

shout to them?

I do not

understand you.

On the hill

and in the square,

You spoke as broadly

as any woman in thrums.

Now you fling a cloak

over your shoulders

And become

a fine lady.

Perhaps it was

the cloak

That bewitched me.

Aye, it was just

the cloak,

For i'm a pure ignorant

bit lassie again.

My, certainly,

but clothes does

Make a difference

to a woman.

This is sheer levity.

Good-Bye, if you're not to give me up.

I'm not a policeman.

Surely we part

friends, then?

No. I hope never

to see your face again.

Now, I cannot help

your not liking my face,

But there's

a splotch of mud

On your own,

little minister,

That came off a divot

you flung at the captain.

There are soldiers at

the top of the hill.

I can't escape

that way.

There's no other way. Ah,

won't you help me again?

Why do you do that?

She'll see us.

She? Oh, your-

My mother.

Oh. Only your mother?

Only. Let me tell you,

She may suffer

more than you

For your

behavior tonight.

How could she?

If you're caught,

won't it be discovered

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