The girl shook her black locks. "No, he's gone t'other way."
Eleanor looked distressed. "Are you sure?" she asked.
The girl nodded. "I'll take you. Come 'long. Tossi can take us both."
"Oh, no, he's too little."
The girl laughed. "He's very strong. No, it won't hurt him. He loves me and I don't let him be hurt." She flung her arms around the neck of the pony and kissed the white star on his forehead.
Eleanor at last consented to mount him, sitting behind the girl and holding fast to her as they dashed up the road. Once she asked breathlessly: "Do you know where the butterman lives? His name is Mr. Snyder."
"I knows him," returned her companion laughing, but she did not stop till they came in sight of a group of gaudy wagons.
"Oh!" cried Eleanor. "Those are gipsies."
The girl jumped down. "My people," she said with a wave of her hand.
"Are you a gipsy?" Eleanor was quite taken aback.