But the leader called the girl away for a moment, and when she came back she sat closer to Judy than before, and her hand was busy with the fastening of the chain at the back—but so lightly, so deftly, that Judy sat unconscious.
And in the intervals of the music the girl laughed and chatted, telling
Judy of the life on the road, of anything to hold her attention.
"You would look like one of us," she said, "if you wore one of these," and she threw across Judy's shoulders a scarf of red silk.
"I believe I am half gipsy," said Judy, trying to be agreeable, but shrinking with a feeling of repulsion from the untidy creature so near her.
The girl drew away the scarf with a loud laugh and a triumphant nod and a wink to the leader, and presently the music stopped.
"I must go," said Judy, more and more in dread of these strange people.
Once more the old woman bent over the blue flames; but the children had gone deeper into the wood, and the place was silent except for the occasional guttural remark of one of the men, or a wail from the baby in the wagon.
"I must go," she said again, and started off.
But when she reached the road, the young leader caught up with her.
"You are beautiful," he said, when he was beyond the hearing of the others.