  Several moments Nan Barrington waited crouching behind the hedge, but the caravan did not come, nor did she hear the rattle and rumble of approaching wagons. Perhaps after all they had passed while she was indoors. Disappointed, the girl arose, and was about to return to the school when she heard voices that seemed to come from a small grove beyond the seminary grounds. Hurrying along in the shelter of the hedge, Nan reached a small side gate, and, hidden, she looked up the highway. She saw that the gypsies had drawn to one side of the road and were preparing to make camp for the night. They were so near that she could plainly hear what they were saying and see the faces that were strange to her. Muriel Metcalf and Daisy Wells were more puzzled than before. “What do you suppose it is that Nan sees?” Muriel whispered. “She surely is much excited about something. Come, let’s run to the tree that’s nearest the hedge and then we will know.” This they did, watching Nan intently, to be sure that they were not observed, but the gypsy girl looked only at the camp wondering what she should do. At last, assured that she had nothing to fear, and longing, if possible, to hear some word of Manna Lou, who had mothered her through the first fourteen years of her life, she drew her cloak more closely about her, and, opening the gate, she went over to the camp fire. How familiar it all seemed. There were the same little fox-like children scampering about gathering wood, and tears rushed to Nan’s eyes as she remembered, how in the long ago, those other children had always run to meet her with arms outstretched when she returned to camp on her Binnie, but these children paid her little heed, for often fine young ladies come to have their fortunes told. A kindly-faced gypsy woman, who was bending over the fire, looked up as she said, “Ah, pretty leicheen, have you come to cross my palm with silver? A wonderful future awaits you, dearie. I can tell that from your eyes.” Then to the amazement of all within hearing, Nan replied in the Romany language. The gypsy woman held out her arms with evident joy as she said in her own tongue, “So, pretty leicheen, you are one of us! Tell me, dearie, how did it happen? Was your mother a gypsy and your father, perhaps a gorigo?” “My mother was a gypsy,” the girl replied, “but she has long been dead and I have been adopted by a kind gorigo lady, two of them, and I am attending this school.” Other gypsy women gathered about and they urged Nan to remain with them for the evening meal, but she said that she would be missed from the school if she were not there for dinner. “But there is much that I want to ask you,” the girl said, “and if I possibly can, I will return after dark.” “Come, come, dearie leicheen,” the gypsy women urged, “We will be glad to have you.” Then, as it was late, Nan hurried away. The twilight was deepening and though she passed close to their hiding place, she did not see the two girls who had been spying upon her. When she was gone, Muriel exclaimed, “Daisy Wells, did you hear her? She spoke the gypsy language.” “Yes,” her friend replied. “I have always thought that there was something strange about Nan Barrington and now I know what it is. She is a gypsy.” “If that is true, one of us will leave this school,” Muriel said haughtily, “for my mother would not permit me to associate with a common gypsy.” |
|
