They enjoy the morning as much as we do. Begging's their way of telling
people howdy."

"Somebody pays them to come," he grumbled, helping her into a pale
blue kimono.

Tess laughed. "Sure! But it pays us too. They keep other bums away.
I talk to them sometimes."

"In English?"

"I don't think they know any. I'm learning their language."

It was his turn to laugh. "I knew a man once who learned the gipsy bolo
on a bet. Before he'd half got it you couldn't shoo tramps off his door-step
with a gun. After a time he grew to like it--flattered him, I suppose, but
decent folk forgot to ask him to their corn-roasts. Careful, Tess, or
Sialpore'll drop us from its dinner lists."

"Don't you believe it! They're crazy to learn American from me, and
to hear your cowpuncher talk. We're social lions. I think they like us
as much as we like them. Don't make that face, Dick, one maverick
isn't a whole herd, and you can't afford to quarrel with the commissioner."

He chose to change the subject.

"What are your bums' names?" he asked.

"Funny names. Bimbu, Umra and Pinga. Now you can see them, look,
the shadow's gone. Bimbu is the one with no front teeth, Umra has only