A little gipsy lass

by Gordon Stables

'No, that would never do, dear.'

'You're not making fun of me, are you?'

'I shouldn't dream of such a thing.'

'Very well. Now you may sing. "Row, brothers, row" will do.'

Luckily, Antony knew this beautiful hymn-like song, and he had a splendid soprano voice. Lotty joined him, and there were tears in her eyes. She lay on the oars again to wipe them.

'I think I must have caught a cold,' said this queer little gipsy girl. 'I say, Mr Blake, have you ever been a freak?'

'A freak? Well, not at a show. My father called me a freak once, I think.'

'I'm a freak now, Mr Blake, and have been for many, many long years. Heigh-ho!'

'Where does the freak come in, child?'

'Oh, I am a violinist, you know. Father says I used to sit up and play in my bassinette. Then I'm a freak telling fortunes; but father takes the money.'