“What ith a Gorgio?” piped Tommy.
“Any one not Romany is a Gorgio. Forever has the Gorgio hounded the Gipsy. The Gorgio thinks the Gipsy a thief, but the Gipsy is not a thief. The Gipsy has little history, my daughters, but the Gipsy dates back to antiquity, to the famed Kings of Egypt. He keeps his sacred tongue—the Romany. It is his secret language. Through it he can hold converse with the Romanys of the world. Ages and ages ago, the Romany was called a Jat. That was in far off India. Then came a bad king from Persia who stole ten thousand of them to make music for him. There they remained until nine hundred years after the Son of Man came, when they were taken captive again and held in bondage until at last they separated and journeyed to the far places of the world. To-day the Gipsy is the only free man who wanders the earth. He pays no tithes, he has no cares.”
“But you have a ruler, a head of all the Gipsies, have you not?” interjected Miss Elting.
“There is the queen of all,” answered the old woman softly. “She now is one hundred years old. She lives in Roumania. Each year are her commands received by all her peoples throughout the world. How, I cannot tell you. It is a secret of the Romanys. We love, we hate, but not as do the Gorgios. But see! The princess has returned. She seeks her friends.”
“You—you mean Miss McCarthy?” questioned Harriet.
The Gipsy nodded gravely.
“Good grathiouth,” exclaimed Tommy. “Thhe’th got eyeth in the top of her head. How doeth thhe know that Jane hath come back?”
“I read the message in the teacup,” answered Sybarina. “It is time, fair daughter to begin, if you would read the secrets of the stars. Come with me and you shall be prepared.”
Harriet rose and followed the old woman to one of the gaudily painted wagons, without the slightest hesitancy.