“Who are you, boy?” he said suddenly.
“I’m a gipsy,” said William proudly.
“What’s your name?”
“Helbert,” said William without hesitation.
“Well, Albert,” said the little old gentleman, “would you like to earn sixpence by carrying this case to my house? It’s just at the end of the wood.”
Without a word William took the case and set off beside the little old gentleman. The little old gentleman carried the notebook, and William carried the japanned tin case.
“An interesting life, a gipsy’s, I should think,” said the old gentleman.
Memories of stories he had read about gipsies returned to William.
“I wasn’t born a gipsy,” he said. “I was stole by the gipsies when I was a baby.”
The little old gentleman turned to peer at William over his spectacles.