It was plain she had attracted attention. For the tall figure, who proved to be a young woman with a baby on her arm, walked slowly to meet her.
“My little lady, where are you going?” the gypsy said, in a coaxing tone.
It was delightful, and just what she expected. The gypsies saw at once that she was a little lady, and were prepared to treat her accordingly.
“Not any farther,” said Maggie, feeling as if she were saying what she had rehearsed in a dream. “I’m coming to stay with you, please.”
“That’s pretty; come, then. Why, what a nice little lady you are, to be sure!” said the gypsy, taking her by the hand. Maggie thought her very agreeable, but wished she had not been so dirty.
There was quite a group round the fire when they reached it. An old gypsy woman was seated on the ground nursing her knees, and poking a skewer into the round kettle that sent forth an odorous steam. Two small shock-headed children were lying prone and resting on their elbows; and a placid donkey was bending his head over a tall girl, who, lying on her back, was scratching his nose and indulging him with a bite of excellent stolen hay.
The slanting sunlight fell kindly upon them, and the scene was really very pretty and comfortable, Maggie thought, only she hoped they would soon set out the teacups.
At last the old woman said: “What! my pretty lady, are you come to stay with us? Sit down and tell us where you come from.”
Maggie at the Gypsy Encampment