"Oh, what a good thing! What will become of her, Tom?"
"The Lees mean to keep her. They say they'll treat her as though she was their own child. Father and I went to Hatwell Green after church yesterday morning to inquire for Grace, and she was ever so much better. It was being so hungry and tired that had made her ill the day before. Father said he could see a distinct likeness between her and Zingra. They're cousins, you know."
"Yes, of course. How strange that Moses should not have known he had a niece until you told him!"
"He didn't know his brother was dead either—he was dreadfully cut up, poor chap, when he heard that. The fact is that neither he nor his brother ever learnt to write, so they couldn't either of them know anything about the other. It's very seldom gipsies can write or read. Mrs. Lee can do both though, and she told Father that during the winter, which the Lees mean to spend at Birmingham, she would send Grace to school regularly. 'I'll do my best for her in every way, sir,' she said, and I'm sure she meant it."
"Have you been to see the lions yet, Tom?" Peter inquired.
"No," Tom answered, "but Father's going to take me to-night if all's well; I particularly want to see Hero, and, if you like, I'll come again to-morrow afternoon, and tell you about him."
"Oh, please do! And, please, take this half-crown and buy me some fairing. You don't mind?"
"Not in the least. What sort of fairing do you want, and how much?"
"A pound of mixed sweets, please, with plenty of almond comfits in them."
The following afternoon found the boys in the same position, munching almond comfits whilst they talked. Tom had enumerated all the animals he had seen in the menagerie, and was now speaking of the lions.