"I think we shall be comfortable enough, Aunt Sallie," said her niece,
after their belongings had been deposited in the tent. "We will fix you
a nice bed, auntie, dearest, with steamer rugs and your rubber air
cushion, and for the first time in your life you will be almost sleeping
under the stars."
But poor Miss Sallie only smiled in reply. She was too weary and
exhausted to trust the sound of her own voice, now that danger was over
and they had found protectors.
While Grace and Ruth arranged three beds inside the tent (Ruth and Bab
having joyfully elected to sleep just outside) the two sisters made tea
and opened up boxes of tea biscuits and Swiss chocolate which were
always 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 an
excuse 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 is
great fun. Our little house in the woods! For one night, it is almost as
good as the cabin in the Berkshires."
"Yes, for one night; but give me a roof when the rain comes," cried
Ruth.
"You are safe for to-night, at any rate, Ruth," said Barbara, looking up
at the sky through the branches of the tall forest trees. "There's not a
cloud, 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 into
finding her voice at last.
"Didn't you see it?" said Mollie. "It was a splendid shooting star. It
had 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 of
sight or goes wherever it disappears to----"
"'Oh, mother, where do the shooting stars go'?" laughed Ruth, breaking
in upon Mollie--"you will inherit a large sum of money," continued
Mollie.
"We shall be sleeping at the feet of an heiress, then," said Bab. "Or
did the star fade out before you had finished, Molliekins?"
"I don't know," replied Mollie. "I was so excited that I forgot to
look."
By this time tea was ready and a rug had been spread in front of the
tent for the guests to sit upon. Miss Sallie with her air cushion
between her shoulders and the trunk of a tree that spread its branches
over the tent, was beginning to feel that life, after all, held a number
of pleasant things, including a certain favorite blend of tea that was
as delicious, fragrant and expensive as heart could wish.
The night breeze touched their faces gently, and the stillness and sweet
scents of the woods soothed them into forgetfulness of their troubles.
While they sipped their tea and talked, in subdued voices, of the
mystery of the forest at night, the Gypsy girl crept up and gazed
curiously, almost wistfully, at them.
"Do have some chocolate," called Ruth, as she held the box toward the
girl. "Come over and sit down, won't you? What is your name?"
"My name is Zerlina," replied the Gypsy, as she nibbled gingerly at a
piece of chocolate.
"And is Granny Ann your mother?" asked Ruth.
"She is my grandmother," replied Zerlina. "My mother died many years
ago."
Ruth looked at her sympathetically. They had, she thought, at least one
thing in common in their widely separated circumstances.
"Would you like," she asked gently, "to live in a city and go to
school?"
For a moment Zerlina's face flushed with a deep glow of color. Her eyes
traveled from one to another of the automobile party. She noted their
refined, well-bred faces, their dainty dresses, the luxurious pile of
long silk coats and chiffon veils. Nothing escaped the child, not even
the elegant little tea basket with its fittings of silver and French
china.
"There are times when I hate this life," Zerlina said finally, turning
to Ruth, who was watching her curiously. "There are times in the winter
when we have been too poor to go far enough South to keep warm. It is
then that I would like the city and the warm houses. But my grandmother
is very strict."
She paused and bit her lip. She had spoken so fiercely that the girls
had felt somewhat embarrassed at their own prosperity. "But," continued
Zerlina in a quieter tone, "when summer comes, I would rather be here in
the woods. Gypsies do not live in houses," she went on a little proudly.
"My grandmother has told me that they have been wanderers for thousands
of years. They do not go to school. They teach each other. My
grandmother has taught me to read and write. She was taught by her
mother, who was adopted and educated by a noble lady. But she came back
to the Gypsies afterwards."
"And your mother?" asked Mollie.
"My mother is dead," returned Zerlina, and closed her lips tightly, as
if to block all further inquiries in that direction.
"It is very interesting!" exclaimed Ruth. "And your education is then
really inherited from your great-grandmother."
"Yes," assented the girl, "but I have inherited more than that--from my
mother."
The girls waited for Zerlina to finish. They hesitated to question her
about her mother since it was evidently a forbidden subject with her.
"I have inherited her voice," she added confidentially. "It may be that
I 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 disappeared
in the darkness.
"Isn't she pretty?" commented Mollie.
"How soft her voice is, and what good English she speaks," marveled
Ruth. "But then, we must remember her great-grandmother was educated by
a noble lady and transmitted her learning and manners straight to her."
"Poor thing!" exclaimed Bab. "I am really very sorry for her. The
instincts of her great-grandmother and her grandmother keep up a sort of
warring 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 she
sighs 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 suppose
she meant when she said that Granny Ann was very strict?"
"I can't imagine," replied Ruth, "unless Granny Ann refuses to allow her
to buy herself a warm house. Seriously, though, I should like to do
something for a girl like Zerlina. She strikes me as being far from
ordinary. But here she comes. We will hear her sing first. This beggar
girl may be a future prima-donna."
Zerlina emerged from the darkness, with an old guitar, and, sitting
crosslegged on the ground, began to thrum an accompaniment. Then she
sang in a deep, rich voice a song of the Gypsies. The song was in
Spanish and the beat of the music was so weird and insistent that the
listeners could hardly restrain themselves from joining hands and
dancing in time to the rhythm.
They were thrilled by the romance of the Gypsy camp and the charm of the
girl's singing. When she had finished they begged for more, and Zerlina
was about to comply when a voice called her from the encampment. It was
her grandmother's, and what she said was not understood, since it was in
the 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 object
to Zerlina's associating with a few girls her own age. I wonder why she
doesn'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 could
be 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 sleep
at the door of the tent like faithful slaves guarding their noble
ladies. Nobody need be afraid. Granny Ann has promised to have a Gypsy
man keep watch, and I have pinned my faith to Granny Ann. I believe
she's a woman of her word."
"Mollie, you seem to be on such friendly terms with these people. What
is your opinion?" asked Miss Sallie.
"I believe we shall be as safe as if we were in our own homes," replied
Mollie. "Granny Ann will keep faith with us. You will see. Perhaps she
wouldn't if she didn't feel under obligations for a few sandwiches and
lemonades, and things that I have made for her occasionally in the
summer on hot days. But I know she's a kind of queen in the tribe, and
used to being obeyed."
Fifteen minutes had hardly slipped past when Miss Sallie and "The
Automobile Girls" were sound asleep, Bab with her pistol at her side.