She led the way down the road with Chapa and Medmangi on either side. They found the tree, close beside the road, and loaded with fruit. They filled their pockets for Gladys and returned to the Striped Beetle, and then for some time, as Hinpoha said, "Nothing was heard in the air but the hurrying munch of the greening."
"It must be a disadvantage to be a negro," remarked Hinpoha reflectively, "you can't tell the difference when they're clean."
"May I ask," inquired Gladys politely, "just what it was that caused you to make that remark at this time?"
"Greening apples," returned Hinpoha, calmly. "You can't tell which are ripe and which are green."
"You can tell by the seeds," said Gladys.
"All seeds are black by night," returned Hinpoha.
"Not changing the subject," said Chapa, "but where are we going to stay to-night?"
"You're not going to stay," replied Hinpoha, "you're staying. Right here. The Inn of the Striped Beetle.
"Under the wide and starry sky
Fold up the seats and let us lie!"
"We'll sleep with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!" added Gladys.