“The patteran,” she reiterated.
“Why,” laughed Harriet. “We did that so that our friend Jane McCarthy would know where we had gone.”
“Then there is Romany in your blood. None but the people of the Romany would think of such a thing. Where is the other princess?” questioned the queen, glancing about.
“Miss McCarthy has gone to meet her father,” Miss Elting informed the old woman. “But we have not thanked you enough for the great service that you have done us.”
“It is nothing. Did not the princess save Sybarina’s miserable life? The debt is still unpaid. Many summers will come, and many summers will go, ere the debt is paid. Sybarina never will live to pay it. Her people will remember. The Romany has a long memory, princess. Come, pretty ladies, come to the camp of the Gipsy. It is not good that you should stay the night here. To-morrow night, yes, but not this night.”
“What do you say, girls?” questioned Miss Elting.
“Spend a night in a Gipsy camp?” asked Harriet.
“Yes.”
“I think that would be fine.”
“But, Sybarina, what of our own camp? Will not the men return and rob us?”