artistic eye amidst the drab sameness of latterday civilization.

"All the same, I suspect she is a sleeping volcano," whispered Miss
Greeby in her companion's ear as they followed the girl through the camp.

"Scarcely sleeping," answered Lambert in the same tone. "She explodes on
the slightest provocation, and not without damaging results."

"Well, you ought to know. But if you play with volcanic fire you'll burn
more than your clever fingers."

"Pooh! The girl is only a model."

"Ha! Not much of the lay figure about her, anyway."

Lambert, according to his custom, shrugged his shoulders and did not
seek to explain further. If Miss Greeby chose to turn her fancies into
facts, she was at liberty to do so. Besides, her attention was luckily
attracted by the vivid life of the vagrants which hummed and bustled
everywhere. The tribe was a comparatively large one, and--as Miss Greeby
learned later--consisted of Lees, Loves, Bucklands, Hernes, and others,
all mixed up together in one gypsy stew. The assemblage embraced many
clans, and not only were there pure gypsies, but even many diddikai, or
half-bloods, to be seen. Perhaps the gradually diminishing Romany clans
found it better to band together for mutual benefit than to remain
isolated units. But the camp certainly contained many elements, and
these, acting co-operatively, formed a large and somewhat reckless
community, which justified Garvington's alarm. A raid in the night by
one or two, or three, or more of these lean, wiry, dangerous-looking
outcasts was not to be despised. But it must be admitted that, in a
general way, law and order prevailed in the encampment.

There were many caravans, painted in gay colors and hung round with
various goods, such as brushes and brooms, goat-skin rugs, and much
tinware, together with baskets of all sorts and sizes. The horses, which
drew these rainbow-hued vehicles, were pasturing on the outskirts of the
camp, hobbled for the most part. Interspersed among the travelling homes
stood tents great and small, wherein the genuine Romany had their abode,
but the autumn weather was so fine that most of the inmates preferred to
sleep in the moonshine. Of course, there were plenty of dogs quarrelling
over bones near various fires, or sleeping with one eye open in odd
corners, and everywhere tumbled and laughed and danced, brown-faced,
lithe-limbed children, who looked uncannily Eastern. And the men,
showing their white teeth in smiles,