ne is coming," replied the gypsy. "But he is no rom of
mine, and never will be."

"Who is he, then?" asked Lambert carelessly.

"One of the great Romany."

Miss Greeby remembered that Mother Cockleshell had also spoken of the
expected arrival at the camp in these terms. "A kind of king?" she
asked.

Chaldea laughed satirically. "Yes; a kind of king," she assented; then
turned her back rudely on the speaker and addressed Lambert: "I can't
come, rye. Ishmael will want to see me. I must wait."

"What a nuisance," said Lambert, looking annoyed. "Fancy, Clara. I have
an idea of painting these two as Beauty and the Beast, or perhaps as
Esmeralda and Quasimodo. I want them to come to the cottage and sit now,
but they will wait for this confounded Ishmael."

"We can come to-morrow," put in Chaldea quickly. "This afternoon I must
dance for Ishmael, and Kara must play."

"Ishmael will meet with a fine reception," said Miss Greeby, and then,
anxious to have a private conversation with Chaldea so as to disabuse
her mind of any idea she may have entertained of marrying Lambert, she
added, "I think I shall stay and see him."

"In that case, I shall return to my cottage," replied Lambert,
sauntering up the pathway, which was strewn with withered leaves.

"When are you coming to The Manor?" called Miss Greeby after him.

"Never! I am too busy," he replied over his shoulder and disappeared
into the wood. This departure may seem discourteous, but then Miss
Greeby liked to be treated like a comrade and without ceremony. That
is, she liked it so far as other men were concerned, but not as regards
Lambert. She loved him too much to approve of his careless leave-taking,
and therefore she frowned darkly, as she turned her attention to
Chaldea.

The girl saw that Miss Greeby was annoyed, and guessed the cause of her
annoyance. The idea that this red-haired and gaunt woman should love the
handsome Gorgio was so ludicrous in Chaldea's eyes that she laughed in
an ironical fashion. Miss Greeby turned on her sharply, but before she
could speak there was a sound of many voices raised in welcome.
"Sarishan pal! Sarishan ba!" cried the voices, and Chaldea started.

"Ishmael!" she said, and ran toward the camp, followed leisurely by
Kara.

Anxious to see the great Romany, whose arrival caused all this
commotion, Miss Greeby plunged into the crowd of excited vagrants. These
surrounded a black horse, on which sat a slim, dark-faced man of