"Homesick!" repeated the gipsy. Then, the funny side striking him, he burst into a roar of laughter. By this time several of the others had drawn near.
"Please, I don't know why you laugh," said Marcia, with a little gasp suggestive of tears; "she's dying!"
"Dying cos she's homesick!" roared the man. "Well, I'm blowed!"
Marcia began to think the gipsy man very strange and rough.
Presently the boy, of whom Rupert had bought the monkey, came up, and the matter being explained to him he, too, bubbled over with amusement.
"You want to get rid of her, little missie, do you?" he asked with a broad grin, thinking that he saw his way to make profit out of Jenny, by nursing her up and selling her again to another purchaser.
"Yes," said Marcia. "She'll die if I keep her, I'm afraid."
"Mayhap she will," replied the boy. "Just you wait a minute, and I'll see if I can't do something to cure her homesick feelings."
"It's a cold she's got, ain't it, Bill?" asked the elder man under his voice.
"Yes. I'll soon give her a little drop as 'll perk her up."