the men.

"It won't be you, Esther, with seven of 'em at your tail a'ready."

"I ain't so sure of that," said Esther's husband.

"And ain't I nobody, to have a say neither?" said the husband of 'Melia.

Zillah, the girl, said, "An' me? I'm a single girl--and no one but 'im
to look after--I ought to have him."

"Hold your tongue!"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Don't you show me no more of your imperence!"

Everyone was getting very angry. The dark gipsy faces were frowning and
anxious-looking. Suddenly a change swept over them, as if some invisible
sponge had wiped away these cross and anxious expressions, and left only
a blank.

The children saw that the sun really _had_ set. But they were afraid to
move. And the gipsies were feeling so muddled because of the invisible
sponge that had washed all the feelings of the last few hours out of
their hearts, that they could not say a word.

The children hardly dared to breathe. Suppose the gipsies, when they
recovered speech, should be furious to think how silly they had been all
day?

It was an awkward moment. Suddenly Anthea, greatly daring, held out the
Lamb to the red-handkerchief man.

"Here he is!" she said.

The man drew back. "I shouldn't like to deprive you, miss," he said
hoarsely.

"Anyone who likes can have my share of him," said the other man.

"After all, I've got enough of my own," said Esther.

"He's a nice little chap, though," said Amelia. She was the only one who
now looked affectionately at the whimpering Lamb.

Zillah said, "If I don't think I must have had a touch of the sun. _I_
don't want him."

"Then shall we take him away?" said Anthea.

"Well--suppose you do," said Pharaoh heartily, "and we'll say no more
about it!"

And with great haste all the gipsies began to be busy about their tents
for the night. All but Amelia. She went with the children as far as the
bend in the road--and there she said--

"Let me give him a kiss, miss,--I don't know what made us go for to
behave so silly. Us gipsies don't steal babies, whatever they may tell
you when you're naughty. We've enough of our own, mostly. But I've lost
all mine."

She leaned towards the Lamb; and he, looking in her eyes, unexpectedly
put up a grubby soft paw and stroked her face.

"Poor, poor!" said the Lamb. And he let the gipsy woman kiss him, and,
what is more, he kissed her brown cheek in return--a very nice kiss, as
all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some babies g