Neither do gypsies bother about meal times. They eat when they are hungry--so it was that Dorothy found Urania eating her dinner at two o’clock in the afternoon, when she made the promised call at the camp.
There appeared to be no one about the tent but Urania, and when Dorothy pulled the little camp stool up to the “door” (the opened tent flap) and seated herself there for a chat with the gypsy girl, she felt she had chosen an opportune time for the confidential talk with Urania.
“Get the birds?” asked Urania, while eating.
“No,” replied Dorothy, “and I came over to see if you had heard anything about them.”
“Heard?” sneered the girl, “I thought they were home by this time.”
“Home?” repeated Dorothy, under her breath, for she heard the bushes rustle close by.
Urania helped herself to more sweet potatoes. She was stretched on a piece of carpet in the center of the tent, and there spread on the floor or ground before her was the noon day meal. A huge white cat sat like an old fashioned chimney corner statue, straight up, at her elbow, looking over her shoulder in the queerest way.
From a corner of the tent a very small black dog was tugging at its rope, that just allowed the tiny animal the privilege of drawing in atmospheric gravy--but the rope was too short to reach the dish. And the gypsy girl ate her meal with evident relish in such surroundings!
Flashes of the “Simple Life” idea rose before Dorothy’s mind. Was this what it meant?
Finally the gypsy girl gathered herself up, and without attempting to remove anything from the ground, not even the remaining eatables--although there were numbers of chickens about waiting their turn at the “spread” she came out to where Dorothy sat.
“The old woman’s over there,” she whispered, indicating the back of the tent. “Suppose we walk along, and talk?”
Dorothy left her parcels down in plain view of the gypsy woman, Melea, who, upon seeing them, stepped out from her hiding place and approached the girls.
“I brought you some little things for Tommie,” said Dorothy, “I hope you can make use of them.”
“Thank you very much, miss,” the woman replied, as she gathered up in her apron the bundles Dorothy had left in the camp chair. “Tommie does need things, poor little fellow. And business is awful slow.”