“A camp? What kind of a camp?”
“I guess you wouldn’t know if I was to tell you,” she laughed. She laughed almost every time she spoke, thought Joshua; and, while it was a merry little trill, it bore as well a note of nervousness. She seemed to find conversation as much of an effort as Joshua was finding it.
“Tell me anyway,” he begged.
“It’s a gypo camp.”
“That’s a funny word. What’s gypo mean?”
“Oh, it would take too long to tell.”
“No ’twouldn’t. Go on! Won’tcha?”
“Well, a gypo camp is— Oh, I can’t tell you here! There’s so much to tell.”
“Le’s quit skatin’ and set down a while.”
“I don’t care.”