Part 8 (2/2)

”True enough,” said he. ”I remember. I'll take you home. I'll harness the 'gry' and take them in the van,” said he to his wife. ”It's still raining hard. They shall know that the gypsies are good to deal with, and that the worst of them is not James Lee.”

And, whistling his gay little tune, Mr. James Lee lifted the tent flap and went out again into the rain which still pattered musically on the canvas roof.

Susan began to enjoy herself. Now that she knew she was going home shortly, she looked about her with fresh pleasure.

”It would be fun to live in a tent,” she thought,-”so different from home. No beds, no chairs, no table. The gypsies must eat sitting on the ground, and sleep, perhaps, on that great heap in the corner.”

That it was not very clean, and was very, very crowded, smoky and dark did not enter Susan's mind.

She smiled at the children still staring silently at her. Besides the big boy who, with back turned, seemed busy in the corner, there were three little girls, two of whom, with coa.r.s.e black hair and bold eyes, smiled back at Susan and then fell to giggling and poking one another.

One of them darted forward and jerked at Susan's scarlet hair-ribbon.

The other stole slyly behind her and twitched her dress. They were mischievous, trixy children, and Susan felt uneasy with them. She was relieved when their mother, seeing the rough play, exclaimed, ”Clear out, you young ones,” and drove them away.

The third little girl, who was scarcely more than a baby, remained in her place, staring solemnly at Susan. She did not look like the other children; indeed, she did not look like a gypsy at all. She was a slender little creature with pale brown hair, large gray eyes, and a tiny hooked nose that gave a strange air of determination to her baby face. She held something behind her back, and suddenly she stepped forward and showed it to Susan.

It was the lost squash baby!

Susan knew it instantly. It had even the bit of blue rag tied about its neck.

”Why, it's my squash baby!” said she, in surprise.

”Yours, is it?” said Mrs. Lee, coming forward. ”My man picked it up in the road and gave it to Gentilla. Give it back, Gentilla. The little miss wants it.”

”No, no, I don't want it,” said Susan hastily. ”Let her keep it. Is her name Gentilla? She is a nice little girl.”

”Gentilla Lee, a good gypsy name,” returned Mrs. Lee. ”She is an orphan.

She is my husband's brother's child. You might think I had enough to do with three children of my own. But no, I must have one more.” And Mrs.

Lee lifted the tent flap and moodily looked out into the still falling rain.

Susan smiled at Gentilla, who looked soberly back and then moved closer to Susan's side and began stroking the visitor's dress with a tiny hand that was far from clean. Suddenly she slipped her hand in Susan's, and, swinging round on it, smiled up into her face.

It seemed a good beginning of a friends.h.i.+p, and Susan was sorry when Mrs. Lee turned round in the doorway and said:

”Here comes my man with the van. You will be home in no time now.”

Through the woods stepped Mr. James Lee leading a bony gray horse, which was drawing a gypsy van, gay with bright red and green and black paint.

He opened the door in the back of the van and helped the children in.

”My pail,” said Phil, clutching his slippers. ”I've lost my pail.”

Mrs. Lee disappeared into the tent, and came out in a moment with Phil's pail-empty! No wonder the big boy, busy eating Phil's berries, had turned his back in the corner of the tent.

”Don't cry, Phil. You shall have half my berries. Don't cry. We're going home.” And Susan waved vigorous good-byes to Mrs. Lee and Gentilla, held back by her aunt from following Susan into the van.

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