Panuel Lovell now came forward to
greet and welcome Wilderspin. Sinfi and Cyril had evidently walked at
a brisk rate, for already tea was spread out on a cloth. The fire was
blazing beneath a kettle slung from the 'kettle-prop.' The party were
waiting for us. Sinfi, however, never idle, was filling up the time
by giving lessons in riding to Euri and Sylvester Lovell, two dusky
urchins in their early teens, while her favourite bantam-cock
Pharaoh, standing on a donkey's back, his wattles gleaming like coral
in the sun, was crowing lustily. Cyril, who lay stretched among the
ferns, his chin resting in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth,
was looking on with the deepest interest. As I passed behind him to
introduce Wilderspin to Videy Lovell (who was making tea), I heard
Cyril say, 'Lady Sinfi, you must and shall teach me how to make an
adversary's bed--the only really essential part of a liberal
education.'
'Brother,' said Sinfi, turning to me, 'your thoughts are a-flyin' off
agin; keep your spirits up afore all these.'
The leafy dingle was recalling Graylingham Wilderness and 'Fairy
Dell,' where little Winifred used to play Titania to my childish
Oberon, and dance the Gypsy 'shawl-dance' Sinfi's mother had taught
her!
So much was I occupied with these reminiscences that I had not
observed that during our absence our camp had been honoured by
visitors.
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