There they stood side by side gazing down at the winding highway which, a short distance beyond, was entirely hidden by a bend and a massing of great old pines.
“Aren’t bends in the road interesting?” Nan said. “One never knows what may appear next. Let’s guess what it will be, and see who is nearest right.”
“Very well,” Phyllis replied, “I’ll guess that it’s the little Wharton girl out horse-back riding with her escort. She passes almost every afternoon at about this hour.”
“And I’ll guess that it will be a motoring party from Boston in a handsome limousine,” Nan replied. Then hand in hand these two girls stood intently watching the bend in the road.
Several moments passed and Nan’s attention had been attracted skyward by the flight of a bird, when she heard Phyllis’ astonished exclamation: “We were both wrong, Nan! Will you look? I never saw such a queer equipage as the one which is coming. A covered wagon drawn by black horses and there is another following it and still another. How very curious! Did you ever see anything like it?”
Phyllis was so intently watching the approaching wagons that she did not notice the almost frightened expression that had appeared in the dark eyes of the girl she so loved, but after a moment Nan was able to say quite calmly, “Why, yes, Joy, I have seen a gypsy caravan before. In California where it is always summer, they often pass the Barrington home in San Seritos.”
Then she added, “I’m going back to the school now.”
Her friend looked at her anxiously, “Why dear,” she said, “do you feel faint or ill?”
Nan shook her head and remarked lightly, with an attempt at gaiety: “Maybe my conscience is troubling me because I’m keeping you from the French verbs.”
They returned to the school, and although Phyllis said nothing, she was convinced that the sight of the gypsy caravan had in some way affected Nan.