es really were very grateful folk. The boy got wood for them;
the man made their fire--much better than it had ever been made
before--and lit it without any paper, and with only one match.

It was at last arranged that they should all share the same supper,
although the woman should sit with the girls and the boys with the man.
And so they did; and they found the hedgehog very good, especially the
baked one, which had been enclosed in a mould of clay and pushed right
into the middle of the fire. It tasted a little like pork, only more
delicate.

"When you invited us to come to supper," Robert said, "you asked what
the time was, and then looked at the sun and said it was nearly five.
And it was--almost exactly. How do you do that?"

"Ah," said the gipsy, "I can't explain. There it is. I know by the sun,
but I can't teach you, because you must live out of doors and never
have a clock, or it's no good."

"And can you tell it when there's no sun?" Robert asked.

"Pretty well," said the man.

"How lucky you are!" said Horace.

"Well, I don't know," said the man. "What about rain? When it's raining
hard, and we're huddling in the van and can't get any dry sticks for
the fire, and our feet are soaked, what are you doing? Why, you're all
snug in your houses, with a real roof over you."

"I'd much rather live in a caravan than a house," said Horace.

The man laughed. "You're a young gent out for a spree," he said. "You
don't count. You wonder at me," he continued, "being able to tell the
time by the skies. But I dare say there's one, at any rate, of you who
can find a train in that thing they call Bradshaw, isn't there?"

"I can," said Robert.

"Well, there you are," said the gipsy. "What's luck? Nothing.
Everyone's got a little. No one's got much."

"Oh, but the millionaires?" said Horace.

"Millionaires!" said the gipsy. "Why, you don't think they're lucky, do
you?"

"I always have done so," said Horace.

"Go on!" said the gipsy. "Why, we're luckier than what they are. We've
got enough to eat and drink,--and no one wants more,--and along with it
no rent and taxes, no servants, no tall hats, no offices, no
motor-cars, no fear of thieves. Millionaires have no rest at all. No
sitting under a tree by the fire smoking a pipe."

"And no hedgehogs," said Gregory.

"No--no hedgehogs. Nothing but butcher's meat that costs its weight in
gold. Take my advice, young gents," said the gipsy, "and never envy
anybody."