Meanwhile the others were very happy by the Slowcoach fire. The gipsy
woman, hugging her baby, kept as close to Janet as if she were a
spaniel. Their name was Lee, she said, and they made baskets. They
lived at Reading in the winter and were on the road all the rest of the
year. The young boy was her brother. His name was Keziah. Her husband's
name was Jasper. The baby's was Rhoda.

Hester was very anxious to ask questions about kidnapping, but she did
not quite like to, and was, in fact, silent.

The gipsy woman noticed it after a while, and remarked upon it. "That
little dark one there," she said; "why doesn't she speak?"

Janet said something about Hester being naturally quiet and thoughtful.

"Oh, no," said the woman, "I know what it is: she's frightened of me.
She's heard stories about the gipsies stealing children and staining
their faces with walnut juice; haven't you, dearie?"

Hester admitted it.

"There," said the woman, laughing triumphantly. "But don't be
frightened, dearie," she added. "That's only stories. And even if it
ever did happen, it couldn't again, what with railway trains and
telegraphs and telephones and motor-cars and newspapers. How could we
help being found out? Why," she continued, "so far from stealing
children, there was a boy running away from school once who offered us
a pound to let him join our caravan and stain his face and go with us
to Bristol, where he could get on to a ship as a stowaway, as he called
it; but Jasper wouldn't let him. I wanted to; but Jasper was dead
against it. 'No,' he said, 'gipsies have a bad enough time as it is,
without getting into trouble helping boys to run away from school.'
That shows what we are, dearie," she added to Hester, with a smile.

"And don't you ever tell fortunes?" Hester asked.

"I won't say I've never done that," the gypsy said.

"Won't you tell mine?" Hester asked. "I've got a sixpence."

"Just cross my hand with it," said the woman, "but don't give it to me.
I couldn't take money from any of you."

So Hester, with her heart beating very fast, crossed the gipsy's hand
with the sixpence, and the gipsy held both hers and peered at them very
hard while Janet nursed the baby.

"This," said the gipsy at last, "is a very remarkable hand. I see
stories and people reading them. I see a dark gentleman and a gentleman
of middling colour."

"Yes," said Hester. "Can't you tell me anything more about them?"

"Well," said the gipsy, "I