“Helbert. Wot yer doin’ ’ere?”
“Lookin’ for adventures,” said William. “It’s an extra day, you know. I want to-day to be quite different from an ornery day. I want some adventures; I’d like to be a gipsy, too,” he ended, wistfully.
Helbert merely stared at him.
“Would they take me?” went on William, nodding his head in the direction of the caravans. “I’d soon learn to be a gipsy. I’d do all they told me. I’ve always wanted to be a gipsy—next to a Red Indian and a pirate, and there don’t seem to be any Red Indians or pirates in this country.”
Helbert once more merely stared at him. William’s hopes sank.
“I’ve not got any gipsy clothes,” he said, “but p’raps they’d give me some.”
Enviously William looked at Helbert’s ragged jersey and knickers and bare feet. Enviously Helbert looked at William’s suit. Suddenly Helbert’s heavy face lightened. He pointed to William’s suit.
“Swop,” he said, succinctly.
“Don’t you really mind?” said William, humbly and gratefully.
The exchange was effected behind a bush. William carefully transferred his packet of provisions and his disguise from his pocket to the pocket of Helbert’s ragged knickers. Then, while Helbert was still donning waistcoat and coat, William swaggered into the open space round the fire. His heart was full to bursting. He was a gipsy of the gipsies.