"Are ye a-going to take them home?" continued Tim.

"For sure, when I can find the time. But that won't be just yet a bit.
There's the missus a-waiting for us."

And, turning a corner, they came suddenly in sight of the other
gipsies--the two women and the big sulky-looking boy--gathered round a
tree, the donkey's panniers and the various bundles the party had been
carrying lying on the ground beside them. If the panniers had been
unpacked and their contents spread out, as Mick had told the children,
they had certainly been quickly packed up again. But there was no time
for wondering about how this could be; the woman whom the pedlar called
"the missus" came up to her husband as soon as she saw them, and said a
few words hastily, and with a look of great annoyance, in the queer
language she had spoken before, to which he replied with some angry
expression which it was probably well the children did not understand.

"Better have done with it, I should say," said the other woman, who was
much younger and nicer-looking, but still with a rather sullen and
discontented face.

"That's just like her," said Mick. "What we'd come to if we listened to
her talk it beats me to say."

"You've not come to much good by not listening to it," retorted Diana
fiercely. But Tim, who had gone towards her, said something in a low
voice which seemed to calm her.

"It's true--we'll only waste our time if we take to quarrelling," she
said. "What's to be done, then?"