Part 9 (1/2)

Mr. Lee carefully led his horse through the woods to the muddy road, and then, sitting up in front, drove his old ”gry” up the hill toward Featherbed Lane.

In the meantime Susan and Phil were looking round the van in surprise and delight.

”It's like a little playhouse,” said Susan, squeezing Phil's hand. ”Oh, I wish I lived in a gypsy van all the time.”

Opposite the door, in the very front of the van, were two beds, one above the other like berths on a s.h.i.+p, and broad enough, each one, to hold three or four gypsy children at once, if need be, and as, in fact, they very often did. There was a little cookstove, whose pipe wandered out of the side of the van in a most unusual way. And alongside the stove was a table, hanging by hinges from the wall. A high chest of drawers and two chairs completed the furniture of the van, which looked very much like a state-room and felt somewhat like one, too, as it swayed over the hillocks and ruts in the road.

Up Featherbed Lane bounced the van, and there on the porch stood Grandmother and Miss Liza, both with white cheeks and anxious faces, while Grandfather came hurrying from the barn where he had been harnessing old Nero with a speed that quite upset the dignity of that staid Roman-nosed beast.

”Where were you, children?” cried Miss Liza in greeting, twisting the corner of her ap.r.o.n as she spoke. ”I ran up here in all that downpour, and I didn't see a sign of you on the way.”

”My berries are gone,” called Phil. ”The big boy ate them. And I was afraid. And we were inside a tent.”

”They are gypsies,” said Susan in a low voice to Grandmother, who was carefully feeling her all over. ”They live in a tent. And, inside, that van is just like a doll's house. Their name is Lee. I wish I lived in a van; it's better than a tent, I think. And they have the nicest little girl you ever saw. Her name is Gentilla Lee. She likes me, I know she does, Grandmother. I want to go see her again.”

”You are wet in spots, child, and damp all over,” was all Grandmother replied. ”Come straight in the house and let me put dry clothes on you.”

Grandfather and the gypsy had been talking together all this time, and now Grandfather put something into Mr. James Lee's hand that made his white teeth gleam in a smile, and caused him to drive first to the store in the village before returning to his hungry family in their tent in the woods.

Then Phil was escorted home; Miss Liza was driven back to Miss Lunette, who might be worried sick by her absence, Miss Liza thought, but who proved to have slept soundly through the storm; and Susan, her tongue wagging, was put into a hot bath and dressed in dry clothes from head to foot before Grandfather returned.

”I want to go back and see the gypsies,” Susan teased the next day. ”I want to see Gentilla. Please, Grandfather, take me to see the gypsies.”

So Grandmother baked a cake in her largest tin, and at the village store Grandfather and Susan purchased several yards of bright red hair-ribbon.

With these offerings they made their way to the gypsy tent, and received a hospitable welcome.

The van, with all its conveniences, was willingly displayed, and Grandfather was invited to test with his hand the softness of the beds, the like of which, Mrs. Lee declared, was not to be found in kings'

palaces. Privately, Grandfather believed this to be true, but, of course, he didn't say it aloud.

To-day, with the sun s.h.i.+ning, and the dogs gnawing a bone at a safe distance in the gra.s.s, the tent seemed to Susan even more attractive than before. She thought with scorn of her own white little room at home, and wished with all her heart that she had been born a gypsy child. Even the two bold little girls seemed pleasanter, and indeed, delighted with their new hair-ribbons and awed by Grandfather's presence, they were more quiet and well-behaved, at least during Susan's call.

The big boy silently devoured his share of Grandmother's cake, and then, with a hungry look still gleaming in his eyes, gazed so longingly at the crumbs remaining that Grandfather took pity upon him. With a turn of his hand he flipped a piece of money at the lad so that, with sure aim, he struck the boy's bare foot.

”Go buy something to eat with it,” commanded Grandfather.

Pulling at his tangled hair in a rough bow of thanks, the boy, waiting for no second bidding, vanished among the trees and was seen no more by his family that afternoon.

Mr. James Lee entertained Grandfather as one gentleman should another.

He had many stories of adventure to tell, and he even brought out his fiddle from under the beds and played several lively gypsy tunes.

”Shall I tell the little miss's fortune?” asked Mrs. Lee, with a half-sly look, and she laughed outright when Grandfather shook his head with a smile.

”I believe in your fortune-telling just about as much as you do,” he answered. ”My granddaughter seems perfectly happy this moment. She doesn't need any better fortune than she has.”

Nor did she, for she and Gentilla, still carrying the squash baby, had become good friends and were enjoying their play together equally well.

They walked off, hand in hand, Susan helping Gentilla over the rough places and mothering her to her heart's delight. She washed her new baby's face and hands in the brook and dried them upon her own handkerchief. She told her about Flip, and s...o...b..ll, and Snuff, to which Gentilla listened with a roll of her big gray eyes. She, herself, didn't talk very much, but Susan quite made up for this lack, and had begun to teach her ”Two little blackbirds sat upon a hill,” when she heard Grandfather calling and knew that she must go.