Chaldea, which was enhanced by her picturesque dress. This was ragged
and patched with all kinds of colored cloths subdued to mellow tints by
wear and weather. Also she jingled with coins and beads and barbaric
trinkets of all kinds. Her hands were perfectly formed, and so doubtless
were her feet, although these last were hidden by heavy laced-up boots.
On the whole, she was an extremely picturesque figure, quite comforting
to the artistic eye amidst the drab sameness of latterday civilization.

"All the same, I suspect she is a sleeping volcano," whispered Miss
Greeby in her companion's ear as they followed the girl through the camp.

"Scarcely sleeping," answered Lambert in the same tone. "She explodes on
the slightest provocation, and not without damaging results."

"Well, you ought to know. But if you play with volcanic fire you'll burn
more than your clever fingers."

"Pooh! The girl is only a model."

"Ha! Not much of the lay figure about her, anyway."

Lambert, according to his custom, shrugged his shoulders and did not
seek to explain further. If Miss Greeby chose to turn her fancies into
facts, she was at liberty to do so. Besides, her attention was luckily
attracted by the vivid life of the vagrants which hummed and bustled
everywhere. The tribe was a comparatively large one, and--as Miss Greeby
learned later--consisted of Lees, Loves, Bucklands, Hernes, and others,
all mixed up together in one gypsy stew. The assemblage embraced many
clans, and not only were there pure gypsies, but even many diddikai, or
half-bloods, to be seen. Perhaps the gradually diminishing Romany clans