[Original]
It happened that at that moment the lady of the caravan had her cup (which, that everything about her might be of a stout and comfortable kind, was a breakfast cup) to her lips, and that having her eyes lifted to the sky in her enjoyment of the full flavour of the tea, not unmingled possibly with just the slightest dash or gleam of something out of the suspicious bottle—but this is mere speculation and not distinct matter of history—it happened that being thus agreeably engaged, she did not see the travellers when they first came up. It was not until she was in the act of getting down the cup, and drawing a long breath after the exertion of causing its contents to disappear, that the lady of the caravan beheld an old man and a young child walking slowly by, and glancing at her proceedings with eyes of modest but hungry admiration.
‘Hey!’ cried the lady of the caravan, scooping the crumbs out of her lap and swallowing the same before wiping her lips. ‘Yes, to be sure—Who won the Helter-Skelter Plate, child?’
‘Won what, ma’am?’ asked Nell.
‘The Helter-Skelter Plate at the races, child—the plate that was run for on the second day.’
‘On the second day, ma’am?’
‘Second day! Yes, second day,’ repeated the lady with an air of impatience. ‘Can’t you say who won the Helter-Skelter Plate when you’re asked the question civilly?’
‘I don’t know, ma’am.’
‘Don’t know!’ repeated the lady of the caravan; ‘why, you were there. I saw you with my own eyes.’