[Footnote: Gorgio, a man who is not a Gypsy. Gorgie, a woman who is not a Gypsy.]
'But it was Winnie Wynne, I s'pose?' said the landlord, in a state now of great curiosity.
'It was Winnie Wynne,' replied the Gypsy, handing her companion her empty beer-pot, and pointing to the landlord as a sign that the man was to pass it on to him to be refilled. 'Up I goes to her, and I says, "Why, sister, who's bin a-meddlin' with you? I'll tear the windpipe out o' anybody wot's been a-meddlin' with you."'
When the girl used the word 'sister' a light broke in upon me.
'Are you Sinfi Lovell?' I cried.
'That jist my name, my rei; but as I said afore, I ain't deaf. Jist let Jim pass my beer across and don't interrup' me, please.'
'Don't rile her, sir,' whispered the landlord to me; 'she's got the real witch's eye, and can do you a mischief in a twink, if she likes. She's a good sort, though, for all that.'
'What are you two a-whisperin' about me?' said the girl in a menacing tone that seemed to alarm the landlord.
'I was only tellin' the gentleman not to rile you, because you was a fightin' woman,' said the man.
The Gypsy looked appeased and even gratified at the landlord's explanation.