of doing.

'No.'

'Nor I nuther,' said Sinfi. 'Nor I can't pen his dukkerin' nuther,
though often's the time I've tried it.'

During this time the two friends seemed to have finished their
colloquy upon 'composition'; for they both came up to us. Sinfi rose;
I sat still on the grass, smoking my pipe, listening to the chatter
of the water as it rushed over the rocks. By this time my curiosity
in the younger man had died away. My mind was occupied with the
dream-picture of a little blue-eyed girl struggling with a wounded
heron. I had noticed, however, that he of the piercing eyes did not
look at me again, having entirely exhausted at a glance such interest
as I had momentarily afforded him; while his companion seemed quite
unconscious of my presence as he stood there, his large, full, deep,
brown eyes gazing apparently at something over my head, a long way
off. Also I had noticed that 'Visionary' was stamped upon this man's
every feature--that he seemed an inspired baby of forty, talking
there to his companion and to Sinfi, the sun falling upon his long,
brown, curly hair, mixed with grey, which fell from beneath his hat,
and floated around his collar like a mane.

When my reverie had passed, I found the artists trying to arrange
with Sinfi to give an open-air sitting to one of them, the man
addressed as Wilderspin. Sinfi seemed willing enough to come to
terms; but I saw her look round at me as if saying to herself, 'What
am I to do with you?'

'I should like for my brother to sit too,' I heard her say.

'Surely!' said Wilderspin. 'Your brother would be a great gain to my
picture.'

Sinfi then came to me, and said that the painter wanted me to sit to
him.

'But,' said I in an undertone, 'the Gorgios will certainly find out
that I am no Romany.'

'Not they,' said Sinfi, 'the Gorgios is sich fools. Why, bless you, a
Gorgio ain't got eves and ears like a Romany. You don't suppose as a
Gorgio can hear or see or smell like a Romany can?'

'But you forget, Sinfi, that I am a Gorgio, and there are not many
Romanies can boast of better senses than your brother Hal.'

'Dordi!' said Sinfi, 'that's jist like your mock-modesty. Your
great-grandmother wur a Romany, and it's my belief that if you only
went back fur enough, you'd find you had jist as good Romany blood in
your veins as I have, and my daddy is a duke, you know, a real,
reg'lar, out-an'-out Romany duke.'

'I'm afraid you flatter me, sister,' I replied. '