can't, because they are only little boys
just now. But I see a beautiful wedding. White satin. Flowers.
Bridesmaids."

The gipsy stopped, and Hester drew her hand back. It was terribly
romantic and exciting.

Before the woman said good night and went to her caravan, Hester took
her sixpence to Kink and asked him to bore a hole in it. And then she
threaded it on a piece of string and tied it round the baby's neck.

The gipsy woman was very grateful. "A beautiful wedding," she said
again. "Such flowers! Music, too."

"Wasn't it wonderful?" Hester said to Janet before they went to sleep.

"What?" Janet asked.

"The gipsy knowing I was fond of writing."

"No," said Janet, "it wasn't wonderful at all. There was a great ink
stain on your finger."

CHAPTER 18

THE ADVENTURE OF THE OLD IRISHWOMAN

When they awoke the next morning the gipsies had gone--nothing remained
of them but the burnt circle on the ground which any encampment makes
and a little rubbish; but at the mouth of the boys' tent lay a bundle
of sticks and two rabbits.

Kink looked at the rabbits with a narrow eye. "Better hurry up and get
them eaten," he said, "or one of those policemen that Master Campbell
is so fond of may be asking awkward questions. And it wouldn't be a bad
thing," Kink added, "to have a good look round and see if there's
anything missing."

"Oh, Kink," said Janet, "how horrid you are to be so suspicious! And
after all their gratitude, too!"

"Yes," said Kink; "but gipsies is gipsies. They were gipsies before
they were grateful, and I reckon they'll be gipsies after."

But in spite of his examination he found no signs of any theft.

They were away soon after breakfast, which seemed a little flat at
first after the excitement of last night. But they soon lost that
feeling in hunger. It was a very windy day, with showers now and then;
but it was bracing too, especially on this very high road, hundreds of
feet above the sea-level.

Robert pointed out how straight it was, and told them it was made by
the Romans eighteen hundred years ago, and it ran right through
Cirencester (which they called Corinium) to Speen (which they called
Spinae). Its name was then Ermin Street. And it amused the children to
imagine they too were Romans clanking along this fine highway.

It was after lunch that they came upon an old woman--sitting beside the
road just beyond Tredington. Long before they reached her they heard
her moaning and gro