“Just like a wee witchie.”
Thus on and on and on went these amateur gipsies for a whole week, and I do not know really which enjoyed this strange wandering tour the most, Leonard, Effie, Ossian, or Don.
But it was not all humble folks they came across, though nearly all; for the fact is they avoided big houses. Leonard said he wanted to mingle with the people. And so they did; but once, and once only, two ladies came up to them in a wood just as they were harnessing up, and about to start on the afternoon journey.
Effie had made all the outside front of the caravan quite gay with wild flowers, and a great garland of primroses, ivy, and wild hyacinths, and was tying it round Don’s neck, when the ladies alighted from their horses, and came to speak to her.
“You are not an ordinary gipsy child, I know,” said one. Effie only opened her blue eyes wider, and looked at the lady, who was young and most pleasant to behold.
But Leonard lifted his hat, and replied boldly,—
“We are wanderers, lady.”
“How romantic! Is this little Red Riding-Hood? How beautiful she is! How my father would like to see her! Could you ride on my horse, dear, and come to the Hall with me?”
“No, thank you,” said Effie. “I would not ride without a habit.”
“Quite right, dear,” said the other lady, laughing.