CHAPTER VII--A NIGHT WITH THE GYPSIES
"I think we shall be comfortable enough, Aunt Sallie," said her niece,after their belongings had been deposited in the tent. "We will fix youa nice bed, auntie, dearest, with steamer rugs and your rubber aircushion, and for the first time in your life you will be almost sleepingunder the stars."
But poor Miss Sallie only smiled in reply. She was too weary andexhausted to trust the sound of her own voice, now that danger was overand they had found protectors.
While Grace and Ruth arranged three beds inside the tent (Ruth and Babhaving joyfully elected to sleep just outside) the two sisters made teaand opened up boxes of tea biscuits and Swiss chocolate which werealways kept in the provision basket for emergencies.
Granny Ann had offered them food, but they had courteously declined,remembering tales they had heard of the unclean Gypsy, and giving as anexcuse that they had a light supper with them. "Very light indeed,"commented Ruth later; "but I don't think we'll starve."
"Now that everything is comfy," observed Grace, "I, for one, think it isgreat fun. Our little house in the woods! For one night, it is almost asgood as the cabin in the Berkshires."
"Yes, for one night; but give me a roof when the rain comes," criedRuth.
"You are safe for to-night, at any rate, Ruth," said Barbara, looking upat the sky through the branches of the tall forest trees. "There's not acloud, even as small as a man's hand. And how bright the stars are!There comes the harvest moon. It looks like a great, red lantern."
"Money, money!" cried Mollie excitedly.
"What is the matter with you, child?" said Miss Sallie, startled intofinding her voice at last.
"Didn't you see it?" said Mollie. "It was a splendid shooting star. Ithad a tail that reached halfway across the heavens. Don't you know that,if you remember to say 'money, money, money,' before it fades out ofsight or goes wherever it disappears to----"
"'Oh, mother, where do the shooting stars go'?" laughed Ruth, breakingin upon Mollie--"you will inherit a large sum of money," continuedMollie.
"We shall be sleeping at the feet of an heiress, then," said Bab. "Ordid the star fade out before you had finished, Molliekins?"
"I don't know," replied Mollie. "I was so excited that I forgot tolook."
By this time tea was ready and a rug had been spread in front of thetent for the guests to sit upon. Miss Sallie with her air cushionbetween her shoulders and the trunk of a tree that spread its branchesover the tent, was beginning to feel that life, after all, held a numberof pleasant things, including a certain favorite blend of tea that wasas delicious, fragrant and expensive as heart could wish.
The night breeze touched their faces gently, and the stillness and sweetscents of the woods soothed them into forgetfulness of their troubles.While they sipped their tea and talked, in subdued voices, of themystery of the forest at night, the Gypsy girl crept up and gazedcuriously, almost wistfully, at them.
"Do have some chocolate," called Ruth, as she held the box toward thegirl. "Come over and sit down, won't you? What is your name?"
"My name is Zerlina," replied the Gypsy, as she nibbled gingerly at apiece of chocolate.
"And is Granny Ann your mother?" asked Ruth.
"She is my grandmother," replied Zerlina. "My mother died many yearsago."
Ruth looked at her sympathetically. They had, she thought, at least onething in common in their widely separated circumstances.
"Would you like," she asked gently, "to live in a city and go toschool?"
For a moment Zerlina's face flushed with a deep glow of color. Her eyestraveled from one to another of the automobile party. She noted theirrefined, well-bred faces, their dainty dresses, the luxurious pile oflong silk coats and chiffon veils. Nothing escaped the child, not eventhe elegant little tea basket with its fittings of silver and Frenchchina.
"There are times when I hate this life," Zerlina said finally, turningto Ruth, who was watching her curiously. "There are times in the winterwhen we have been too poor to go far enough South to keep warm. It isthen that I would like the city and the warm houses. But my grandmotheris very strict."
She paused and bit her lip. She had spoken so fiercely that the girlshad felt somewhat embarrassed at their own prosperity. "But," continuedZerlina in a quieter tone, "when summer comes, I would rather be here inthe woods. Gypsies do not live in houses," she went on a little proudly."My grandmother has told me that they have been wanderers for thousandsof years. They do not go to school. They teach each other. Mygrandmother has taught me to read and write. She was taught by hermother, who was adopted and educated by a noble lady. But she came backto the Gypsies afterwards."
"And your mother?" asked Mollie.
"My mother is dead," returned Zerlina, and closed her lips tightly, asif to block all further inquiries in that direction.
"It is very interesting!" exclaimed Ruth. "And your education is thenreally inherited from your great-grandmother."
"Yes," assented the girl, "but I have inherited more than that--from mymother."
The girls waited for Zerlina to finish. They hesitated to question herabout her mother since it was evidently a forbidden subject with her.
"I have inherited her voice," she added confidentially. "It may be thatI shall be a singer some day."
"Oh, really?" cried all the girls in unison.
"You will sing for us now, won't you?" added Ruth.
"If you wish," said Zerlina. "I will get my guitar." And she disappearedin the darkness.
"Isn't she pretty?" commented Mollie.
"How soft her voice is, and what good English she speaks," marveledRuth. "But then, we must remember her great-grandmother was educated bya noble lady and transmitted her learning and manners straight to her."
"Poor thing!" exclaimed Bab. "I am really very sorry for her. Theinstincts of her great-grandmother and her grandmother keep up a sort ofwarring inside of her. In the winter time she's her great-grandmother,and in the summer time she's a real Gypsy. There are times when shesighs for a steam-heated house, and times when she sighs for the open."
"But it's mostly the open she gets," said Grace. "What do you supposeshe meant when she said that Granny Ann was very strict?"
"I can't imagine," replied Ruth, "unless Granny Ann refuses to allow herto buy herself a warm house. Seriously, though, I should like to dosomething for a girl like Zerlina. She strikes me as being far fromordinary. But here she comes. We will hear her sing first. This beggargirl may be a future prima-donna."
Zerlina emerged from the darkness, with an old guitar, and, sittingcrosslegged on the ground, began to thrum an accompaniment. Then shesang in a deep, rich voice a song of the Gypsies. The song was inSpanish and the beat of the music was so weird and insistent that thelisteners could hardly restrain themselves from joining hands anddancing in time to the rhythm.
They were thrilled by the romance of the Gypsy camp and the charm of thegirl's singing. When she had finished they begged for more, and Zerlinawas about to comply when a voice called her from the encampment. It washer grandmother's, and what she said was not understood, since it was inthe Romany language. But the girl leaped hurriedly to her feet.
"I will not sing again to-night," she said. "The ladies are tired.Another time. Good-night," And she slipped away in the darkness.
"Granny Ann is strict," said Ruth. "You wouldn't think she would objectto Zerlina's associating with a few girls her own age. I wonder why shedoesn't like to have her sing? Perhaps she is afraid she will run away,some day, and go on the stage."
"I wish I had her beautiful voice," sighed Grace. "Think what it couldbe made with proper training."
"If she does not coarsen in feature, as so many of these dark women do,"observed Miss Sallie, "she will be very handsome some day."
"And now for our lowly beds," cried Ruth. "Barbara, you and I will sleepat the door of the tent like faithful slaves guarding their nobleladies. Nobody need be afraid. Granny Ann has promised to have a Gypsyman
keep watch, and I have pinned my faith to Granny Ann. I believeshe's a woman of her word."
"Mollie, you seem to be on such friendly terms with these people. Whatis your opinion?" asked Miss Sallie.
"I believe we shall be as safe as if we were in our own homes," repliedMollie. "Granny Ann will keep faith with us. You will see. Perhaps shewouldn't if she didn't feel under obligations for a few sandwiches andlemonades, and things that I have made for her occasionally in thesummer on hot days. But I know she's a kind of queen in the tribe, andused to being obeyed."
Fifteen minutes had hardly slipped past when Miss Sallie and "TheAutomobile Girls" were sound asleep, Bab with her pistol at her side.