A young woman followed him. She had black hair, and very black eyes, and wore a necklace, and earrings, and bracelets galore. When she ran after the crowing little one the tinkling of these ornaments was audible to the group of girls on the hillside.
This gaily dressed woman caught up the laughing child, and as she turned her gaze went over his head and struck full upon the seven girls.
She set the little boy down quietly, said something to him, and he ran to cover like a frightened chicken. She spoke another word—aloud—and two men and three other women appeared from the wagons, or tents. They all gazed up at the half-frightened girls.
“Come down, pretty young ladies,” said the gaily bedecked Gypsy woman, in a wheedling tone. “We will not harm you. If you cross our palms with silver we may be able to tell you something pleasant.”
She spoke English well enough; but her address mainly was a formula used; to attract trade.
“What’ll we do?” gasped Dorothy Lockwood, clinging to her twin’s hand.
“Keep your courage, Dorry,” said her sister.
“Don’t let them see we’re afraid of them,” Nellie advised, but in a shaking voice.
“And why should we be afraid?” asked Laura, quite calmly.
“Oh, I’ve seen that woman before,” said Eve. “She’s one of the Vareys. They are English Gypsies, like the Stanleys. She was at our place last summer.”