"So I gave him one of the rabbits," said Meg, concluding a long story of which Dan was the hero, "and he took it to his camp."
"As a matter of fact, you provided his dinner," observed Miss Linisfarne, languidly. So far she had not taken much interest in the story.
"I suppose so. Dan said he was fond of stewed rabbit."
"No doubt. All gipsies are."
"But Dan is not a gipsy!" said the girl, laughing. "He tries to be one, but fails. He is a gentleman."
"My poor child, you must be making a mistake," replied the elder lady, in a pitying tone. "Gentlemen do not travel in caravans, or take rabbits from unknown young women."
"This one does, Miss Linisfarne. I am sure I am right. Dan is a gentleman, and a very handsome one too."
"Handsome!" echoed Miss Linisfarne, with a flush. "You did not tell me that, Meg. Describe his looks."
"He is tall, with brown hair and moustache. His eyes are of a dark grey, and laugh with his lips. He is," said Meg, concluding this feminine description with a feminine epithet such as is to be found in the novels of the gentle sex--"he is a Greek god."
"A most attractive person, according to your description. Are you sure your enthusiasm does not carry you away? For all I know, he may not be a bit better-looking than Parson Jarner. He also is a Greek god, though more like Silenus than Apollo."