“Shall I tell the little miss’s fortune?” asked Mrs. Lee, with a half-sly look, and she laughed outright when Grandfather shook his head with a smile.
“I believe in your fortune-telling just about as much as you do,” he answered. “My granddaughter seems perfectly happy this moment. She doesn’t need any better fortune than she has.”
Nor did she, for she and Gentilla, still carrying the squash baby, had become good friends and were enjoying their play together equally well. They walked off, hand in hand, Susan helping Gentilla over the rough places and mothering her to her heart’s delight. She washed her new baby’s face and hands in the brook and dried them upon her own handkerchief. She told her about Flip, and Snowball, and Snuff, to which Gentilla listened with a roll of her big gray eyes. She, herself, didn’t talk very much, but Susan quite made up for this lack, and had begun to teach her “Two little blackbirds sat upon a hill,” when she heard Grandfather calling and knew that she must go.
“I don’t want to leave Gentilla,” said Susan, as she joined the group before the tent. “Do you suppose I can come and play with her to-morrow?” “Perhaps Mrs. Lee will let Gentilla come and play with you,” answered Mr. Whiting, who thought Susan better off at home than in the gypsy camp.
So it was settled that Mr. James Lee would bring Gentilla to-morrow to spend the day, and Susan went home with a happy heart, chattering to Grandfather about her new-found friends.
“Wouldn’t you like to be a gypsy, Grandfather?” asked she. “Wouldn’t you like to live in a tent? Why isn’t everybody a gypsy? It’s such a nice way to live.”
“Well, Susan, most people think it better to stay in one place instead of wandering over the face of the earth,” answered Grandfather. “And among other things, they want their children to go to school and to church, too.”
“I don’t care so much about going to school,” said Susan, honestly. “I know I would like to live in a tent and ride around in that van.”
“It seems pleasant enough now, while it is warm weather,” admitted Grandfather. “But what about cold, and rain, and snow, and not any too much to eat?”
“They were hungry, weren’t they?” pondered Susan. “How they did like Grandmother’s cake!”