The third little girl, who was scarcely more than a baby, remained in her place, staring solemnly at Susan. She did not look like the other children; indeed, she did not look like a gypsy at all. She was a slender little creature with pale brown hair, large gray eyes, and a tiny hooked nose that gave a strange air of determination to her baby face. She held something behind her back, and suddenly she stepped forward and showed it to Susan.
Susan knew it instantly. It had even the bit of blue rag tied about its neck.
“Why, it’s my squash baby!” said she, in surprise.
“Yours, is it?” said Mrs. Lee, coming forward. “My man picked it up in the road and gave it to Gentilla. Give it back, Gentilla. The little miss wants it.”
“No, no, I don’t want it,” said Susan hastily. “Let her keep it. Is her name Gentilla? She is a nice little girl.”
“Gentilla Lee, a good gypsy name,” returned Mrs. Lee. “She is an orphan. She is my husband’s brother’s child. You might think I had enough to do with three children of my own. But no, I must have one more.” And Mrs. Lee lifted the tent flap and moodily looked out into the still falling rain.
Susan smiled at Gentilla, who looked soberly back and then moved closer to Susan’s side and began stroking the visitor’s dress with a tiny hand that was far from clean. Suddenly she slipped her hand in Susan’s, and, swinging round on it, smiled up into her face.
It seemed a good beginning of a friendship, and Susan was sorry when Mrs. Lee turned round in the doorway and said:
“Here comes my man with the van. You will be home in no time now.”
Through the woods stepped Mr. James Lee leading a bony gray horse, which was drawing a gypsy van, gay with bright red and green and black paint. He opened the door in the back of the van and helped the children in.
“My pail,” said Phil, clutching his slippers. “I’ve lost my pail.”
Mrs. Lee disappeared into the tent, and came out in a moment with Phil’s pail—empty! No wonder the big boy, busy eating Phil’s berries, had turned his back in the corner of the tent.
“Don’t cry, Phil. You shall have half my berries. Don’t cry. We’re going home.” And Susan waved vigorous good-byes to Mrs. Lee and Gentilla, held back by her aunt from following Susan into the van.