The girl nodded in reply, standing with one arm over the neck of her little pony.
"But I want to go to Mr. Snyder's," said Eleanor helplessly, all the stories she had ever heard of gipsies coming to her mind.
The girl led the pony slowly along toward the wagons and Eleanor could see that beyond them, in a small enclosure, were many horses, and that in some of the wagons, with their red and yellow adornings, were women and children. "Please don't go on," she said. "I don't want to go there."
"Wha' for?" again said the girl.
"I want to find Mr. Snyder."
"He your papa?"
"No."
"You live there?"
"No."
"Then wha' for?"