“What a queer thing!” said Margot.
“Isn’t it!” Stella was as keen as mustard, instantly. “Perhaps they’re not our gipsies after all! Generally, all of them travel together; I’ve never seen one tent left behind. I say, Margot, let’s go nearer. Mother didn’t exactly say we weren’t to look at them.”
“No. It’s all right, I should think,” agreed Margot, “so long as we don’t talk to them. I say....” She had forgotten the “Little House” entirely in her excitement. “Stella, I’ve got an idea. Let’s pretend we’re in the
“‘I’m coming to that,’ declared Stella, ‘if only you’ll listen.’”
Bush. Let’s lie low and wriggle along through the heather like the ‘blacks’ do. They know all the woodcraft ways, and Long Jake’s taught me some. We’ll....”
“Oh, do let’s,” begged her hostess with delight.