n.
After some conversation a jockey proposed a game of cards; and in a
little time, Mr. Petulengro and another gypsy sat down to play a game of
cards with two of the jockeys.

Though not much acquainted with cards, I soon conceived a suspicion that
the jockeys were cheating Mr. Petulengro and his companion, I therefore
called Mr. Petulengro aside, and gave him a hint to that effect. Mr.
Petulengro, however, instead of thanking me, told me to mind my own bread
and butter, and forthwith returned to his game. I continued watching the
players for some hours. The gypsies lost considerably, and I saw clearly
that the jockeys were cheating them most confoundedly. I therefore once
more called Mr. Petulengro aside, and told him that the jockeys were
cheating him, conjuring him to return to the encampment. Mr. Petulengro,
who was by this time somewhat the worse for liquor, now fell into a
passion, swore several oaths, and asking me who had made me a Moses over
him and his brethren, told me to return to the encampment by myself.
Incensed at the unworthy return which my well-meant words had received, I
forthwith left the house, and having purchased a few articles of
provision, I set out for the dingle alone. It was a dark night when I
reached it, and descending I saw the glimmer of a fire from the depths of
the dingle; my heart beat with fond anticipation of a welcome. "Isopel
Berners is waiting for me," said I, "and the first words that I shall
hear from her lips is that she has made up her mind. We shall go to
America, and be so happy together." On reaching the bottom of the
dingle, however, I saw seated near the fire, beside which stood the
kettle simmering, not Isopel Berners, but a gypsy girl, who told me that
Miss Berners when she went away had charged her to keep up the fire, and
have the kettle boiling against my arrival. Startled at these words, I
inquired at what hour Isopel had left, and whither she was gone, and was
told that she had left the dingle, with her cart, about two hours after I
departed; but where she was gone she, the girl, did not know. I then
asked whether she had left no message, and the girl replied that she had
left none, but had merely given directions about the kettle and fire,
putting, at the same time, six-pence into her hand. "Very strange,"
thought I; then dismissing the gypsy girl I sat down by the fire. I had
no wish for tea, but sat looking on the embers, wondering what could be
th