“I’m afraid I never could learn to read palms in one night,” laughed Harriet.
“The stars and the voices of the air will help you. Be not afraid. But you must be a Gipsy true.”
“How do you mean?”
“You must be like other Gipsies.”
“Oh! You mean dress like them?”
“Yes. After the tea you shall see.”
Tea was a most formal affair. Sybarina first took a sip from her own cup then passed the cup to the others, each girl taking a sip in turn, after which cups were served to each member of the party. By this time the other members of the tribe appeared to have lost interest in the visitors.
“My girls would know something of your people, Sybarina,” suggested Miss Elting after the formalities of the tea drinking had been finished and the girls had settled down to their own cups of tea.
She regarded her teacup frowningly, as though she were seeking light in the amber fluid.
“My daughters,” said the old woman. “It takes many years to earn the confidence of a Romany. You have done so in a hour. All are Gorgios to the Gipsy.”