“Rommany! Rommany! what is Rommany?”
“What is Rommany? our language, to be sure; tell me, brother, only one thing, you don’t speak Rommany?”
“You say it.”
“I don’t say it, I wish to know. Do you speak Rommany?”
“Do you mean thieves’ slang—cant? no, I don’t speak cant, I don’t like it, I only know a few words; they call a sixpence a tanner, don’t they?”
“I don’t know,” said the girl, sitting down on the ground, “I was almost thinking—well, never mind, you don’t know Rommany. I say, brother, I think I should like to have the kekaubi.”
“I thought you said it was badly mended?”
“Yes, yes, brother, but—”
“I thought you said it was only fit to be played at football with?”
“Yes, yes, brother, but—”