refuse him the choomer?"

"We makes no difference, brother; the daughters of the gypsy-father makes
no difference; and, what's more, sees none."

"Well, Ursula, the world will hardly give you credit for such
indifference."

"What cares we for the world, brother! we are not of the world."

"But your fathers, brothers, and uncles give you credit I suppose,
Ursula."

"Ay, ay, brother, our fathers, brothers, and cokos gives us all manner of
credit; for example, I am telling lies and dukkerin in a public-house
where my batu or coko--perhaps both--are playing on the fiddle; well, my
batu and my coko beholds me amongst the public-house crew, talking
nonsense and hearing nonsense; but they are under no apprehension; and
presently they sees the good-looking officer of militia, in his greens
and Lincolns, get up and give me a wink, and I go out with him abroad,
into the dark night perhaps; well, my batu and my coko goes on fiddling,
just as if I were six miles off asleep in the tent, and not out in the
dark street with the local officer, with his Lincolns and his greens."

"They know they can trust you, Ursula?"

"Ay, ay, brother; and, what's more, I knows I can trust myself."

"So you would merely go out to make a fool of him, Ursula?"

"Merely go out to make a fool of him, brother, I assure you."

"But such proceedings really have an odd look, Ursula."

"Amongst gorgios, very so, brother."

"Well, it must be rather unpleasant to lose one's character even amongst
gorgios, Ursula; and suppose the officer, out of revenge for being
tricked and duped by you, were to say of you the thing that is not, were
to meet you on the race-course the next day, and boast of receiving
favours which he never had, amidst a knot of jeering militia-men, how
would you proceed, Ursula? would you not be abashed?"

"By no means, brother; I should bring my action of law against him."

"Your action at law, Ursula?"

"Yes, brother; I should give a whistle, whereupon all one's cokos and
batus, and all my near and distant relations, would leave their fiddling,
dukkerin, and horse-dealing, and come flocking about me. 'What's the
matter, Ursula?' says my coko. 'Nothing at all,' I replies, 'save and
except that gorgio, in his greens and his Lincolns, says that I have
played the . . . with him.' 'Oho, he does, Ursula,' says my coko; 'try
your action of law against him, my lamb,' and he puts something privily
into my hands; whereupon I goes clo