'He ain't a king,' said Sinfi modestly; 'he's only a duke.'
'You'll give us some tea, Lady Sinfi?' said Cyril.
'No tea equal to Gypsy tea.'
'Romany tea, Mr. Cyril,' replied Sinfi, with perfect dignity and grace. 'My daddy, the duke, will be pleased to welcome you.'
We all strolled towards the tents. I offered to carry an umbrella and a camp-stool. Cyril walked briskly away with Sinfi, leaving me to get on with Wilderspin as best I could. Before the other two were out of earshot, however, I heard Cyril say,
'You shouldn't have taken so seriously my chaff about the soap, Sinfi. You ought to know me better by this time than to think that I would really insult you.'
'How you would ha' went down afore the Swimmin' Rei!' replied Sinfi regretfully.
III
Between my new companion, Wilderspin, and myself there was an awkward silence for some time. He was evidently in a brown study. I had ample opportunity for examining his face. Deeply impressed upon his forehead there was, as I now perceived, an ancient scar of a peculiar shape. At last, a lovely bit of scenery broke the spell, and conversation began to flow freely.
We had nearly got within sight of the encampment when he said,