“‘I loved a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e’er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,
I thought she loved me, too:
But, now alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!’”
“Good morning!” cried Billie, running over to the van. “You must have muffled old Dobbin’s feet to have crept in so quietly. How is Ri—Mr. Hook?” she added, all in one breath.
Maggie popped her head out of the front of the van. She reminded Billie of a little bird peeping from a bird house.
“Not ‘Mister,’” she called, smiling brightly. “Remember, Billie, that we brothers and sisters of the road never use titles.”
“Oh, yes, I mustn’t forget that I’m one of the fraternity,” answered Billie, smiling.
“‘—Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood
Ever the wide world over,’”
called Maggie, with much animation, from the top step of the van.
“You’ll have to know her better to understand her dual nature, Billie,” observed Amy Swinnerton, glancing up from her easel. “After she’s been a good housewife and got things shipshape and free from the dust of the road she loves so much, she’s ready to turn Gypsy and muss them all up again.”
“I never mussed anything up in my life,” broke in Maggie. “I only clean up other people’s musses.”
“But how is your brother Richard?” persisted Billie. “You see I feel some natural anxiety because I was the one who shot him last night. Has the wound been dressed?”