'Oh, Sinfi,' I said; as we stood watching the peculiar bright yellow
trout in Lake Ogwen, 'she is starving--starving on the hills--while
millions of people are eating, gorging, wasting food. I shall go
mad!'
Sinfi looked at me mournfully, and said:
'It's a bad job, reia, but if poor Winnie Wynne's a-starvin' it ain't
the fault o' them as happens to ha' got the full belly. There ain't a
Romany in Wales, nor there ain't a Gorgio nuther, as wouldn't give
Winnie a crust, if wonst we could find her.'
'To think of this great, rich world,' I exclaimed (to myself, not to
the Gypsy), 'choke-full of harvest, bursting with grain, while
famishing on the hills for a mouthful is she--the one!'
'Reia,' said Sinfi, with much solemnity, 'the world's full o'
vittles; what's wanted is jist a hand as can put the vittles and the
mouths where they ought to be--cluss togither. That's what the hungry
Romany says when he snares a hare or a rabbit.'
We walked on. After a while Sinfi said: 'A Romany knows more o' these
here kinds o' things, reia, than a Gorgio does.
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