"I want him to take me somewhere. Perhaps you know where Sylvy Johnson lives. She is a colored woman. I would just as soon go to her house as to Mr. Snyder's."
The girl shook her head. "Don't know. We had a little nigger girl not long ago. She went to the orspital, my brodder say. She was hurted." Then she suddenly looked up saying: "I like you. I wish you'd stay and see my big brudder. He have anudder pony like this one; he'll let you ride on him."
At this moment one of the dark, queer-looking women came from one of the wagons toward them and Eleanor took affright. "Oh, no, please,—I am very much obliged to you for letting me ride your pony; he is a darling, but I am afraid to stay. I'm not afraid of you, for you are a very nice, kind little girl, but I do want to go. I am so tired, and—and—please."
"Come on." The girl swung herself upon the pony, and giving the pretty creature a slap with her hand she made him turn around and they were soon dashing down the road again to the spot where Eleanor had been first seen by the gipsy girl.
Eleanor got down and looked up the lane. "Does Mr. Snyder live in there?" she asked.
"Don't know."
"But you said you knew where he lived."
"No, I says I know him, an' so I does."
"But you said he had gone out another way."
"Maybe. I don't know. No, he's comin' now. I see his wagon top. I said that because I wanted you to come and see my brudder and me."