affection of a milkman, a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart
with a paraffin barrel at the back of it. They were nearly home
when the worst thing of all happened. Turning a corner suddenly
they came upon two vans, a tent, and a company of gipsies encamped
by the side of the road. The vans were hung all round with wicker
chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and feather brushes. A lot
of ragged children were industriously making dust-pies in the road,
two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women were doing the
family washing in an old red watering-can with the top broken off.

In a moment all the gipsies, men, women, and children, surrounded
Anthea and the Baby.

'Let me hold him, little lady,' said one of the gipsy women, who
had a mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; 'I won't hurt
a hair of his head, the little picture!'

'I'd rather not,' said Anthea.

'Let me have him,' said the other woman, whose face was also of the
hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. 'I've
nineteen of my own, so I have.'

'No,' said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly
choked her.

Then one of the men pushed forward.

'Swelp me if it ain't!' he cried, 'my own long-lost cheild! Have
he a strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my own babby,