She was sewing beads to a jacket,
and she looked up with a bright smile as they approached.
"You come from the hotel?" she said. "You live there?"
"No," said Dolly. "We come from a long way off. Are you going to wear
that jacket?"
The gypsy girl laughed.
"No. I'm making that for my man, him over there by the tree, smoking,
see? He's my man; he's goin' marry me when I get it done."
Bessie laughed.
"Marry you? Why, you're only a girl like me!" she exclaimed.
"No, no; me woman," protested the gypsy, eagerly. "See, I'm so tall
already!"
And she sprang up to show them how tall she was. But Bessie and Dolly
only laughed the more, until Bessie saw that something like anger was
coming into her black eyes, and checked Dolly's laugh.
"I hope you'll be very happy," she said. "Come on, Dolly, we really must
be going."
Dolly was inclined to resist once more. She hadn't seen half as much as
she wanted to of the strange, exotic life of the gypsy caravan, so
different from the things she was used to, but Bessie was firm, and they
began to make their way back toward the trail.
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