The Scollard took no
note of me; he had no eyes for any one but Rhona Boswell.
When tea was over Sinfi left the camp, and strode across the Dell
towards the river. I followed her.
II
It was not till we reached a turn in the river that is more secluded
than any other--a spot called 'Gypsy Ring,' a lovely little spot
within the hollow of birch trees and gorse--that she spoke a few
words to me, in a constrained tone. Then I said, as we sat down upon
a green hillock within the Ring: 'Sinfi, the baskets my aunt saw in
Winnie's hand when she was standing in the rain were of the very kind
that Videy makes.'
'Oh, _that's_ what you wanted to say!' said she; 'you think Videy
knows something about Winnie. But that's all a fancy o' yourn, and
it's of no use looking for Winnie any more among the Romanies. Even
supposin' you did hear the Welsh gillie--and I think it was all a
fancy--you can't make nothin' out o' them baskets as your aunt seed.
Us Romanies don't make one in a hundud of the fancy baskets as is
sold for Gypsy baskets in the streets, and besides, the hawkers and
costers what buys 'em of us sells 'em agin to other hawkers and
costers, and there ain't no tracin' on 'em.
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