I was pleased.
“She was very nice to me,” I said.
“So you liked her, did you? Didn’t take against her because she was a gipsy and all that?”
“I liked her very much.”
“I’ll tell you something. She’d like it if you went to see her.”
“Would she?”
“You can bet on that.”
“She might not remember me. It was a long time ago.”
“Rosie remembers everything, so she’d remember you all right. Come along and say hello to her.”
He started towards the encampment and I followed. The children stopped in their play to stare at me, and Rosie Perrin cried out in pleasure when she saw me.
“Why! It’s little Miss Carmel! Come up, dearie. Well, who’d ‘a thought it!”
I mounted the steps of the caravan, followed by Jake, and stepped inside.
Rosie said: “Sit down, dearie. Well, well, it’s some time since you were here. How’s that ankle and the leg? All nice and healthy now? I knew it would be. Tell me all about it. How is it at the house now?
Still treat you all right, do they? “
“Oh yes. We have a governess now.”
“That’s grand, that is. Is she good to you?”
“She is very nice and I like her a lot.”
She nodded.
“And what about the lady and the gentleman … doctor I beg his pardon?”
“She had a riding accident. She can’t walk. There’s a wheelchair and she’s in pain a lot of the time.”
“Poor soul. That little nurse goes there, don’t she … morning and evening. One of our little ‘uns fell over in the road. She came by on her bike and looked after the child. Did a good job and brought her back to us. She had a little chat with me.”
“That was Annie Logan. Yes, she comes in to help Mrs. Marline.”
“A bit of a tartar, that lady, eh?”
“Yes … I suppose so.”
“All right with you, is she?”
“She doesn’t notice me much. She never did. I think she doesn’t like to be reminded I’m there.”
“Well, that’s not such a bad thing, eh?” She nudged me and laughed. I laughed with her.
“As long as they treat you right.”
Jake slipped away and left us, and she went on to ask questions about the house and its inhabitants. I found myself telling her about Mrs. Marline’s rooms on the ground floor, the wheelchair, the bells that rang all the time, and how the servants grumbled and said there was no pleasing her.
Then I heard someone singing. It was a beautiful clear voice with a lilt in it.
“Three gipsies stood at the castle gate They sang so high, they sang so low, The lady sate in her chamber late Her heart it melted away like snow.”
I had stopped talking to listen.
“That’s Zingara,” said Rosie, and at that moment the door of the caravan opened and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen came in.
Creole earrings dangled from her ears and her thick, shining black hair was piled high on her head; her dark eyes sparkled and Rosie looked at her with great pride.
“Zingara!” she cried.
“Who else!” said the woman. Then she smiled at me and said: “This is ?”
“Little Carmel March, who comes from Commonwood House.”
“I know about you,” said Zingara, looking at me as though she was very pleased to see me.
“And how you came to visit the raggle-taggle gipsies.”
I did not know what to say, so I gave a little giggle. She came close to me and put her hands on my shoulders, studying me intently and giving me the impression that she liked me very much. Then she put a hand under my chin and turned my face up to hers.
“Little Carmel March,” she said slowly.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sit beside her, then,” said Rosie.
“I tell you what. I’ll make you some herb tea. Then you two can have a little chat.”
She rose and went to the back of the caravan where there was a small alcove. I was more or less alone with Zingara. She kept looking at me; she touched my cheek lightly with her finger.
“Tell me,” she said earnestly.
“Are they kind to you at that house?”
“Well, yes … I think so. The doctor always smiles, and Mrs. Marline doesn’t notice me, and Miss Carson is very nice.”
She wanted to hear about Miss Carson and listened intently while I talked. I thought it was very kind of her to seem to care so much. I repeated what I had told Rosie a short time before.
“You’re being educated, and there’s a great deal to be said for education,” said Zingara.
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more of it myself.
Still, I get along. “
“Do you live here with the gipsies?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No, this is a visit. I was brought up with them.
I used to run about like those little boys and girls you saw down there. I’d sing and dance a lot. I couldn’t stop myself, and then, one day, one of those gentlemen who write books was going to write one about gipsies and he came and stayed with us in the camp. He heard me sing and saw me dance and he said I ought to do something about it. He was the one who did it. I was sent away to a school where they trained people for the stage-and that’s what I did. I sing and dance and travel round the country. Zingara, the singing gipsy dancer. “
“But you’ve come back.”
“Now and then I do. I can’t tear myself away, you see.
It’s all in the song about the raggle-taggle gipsies. Oh, you can never forget where you belong. “
“But you like being Zingara the dancing, singing gipsy.”
“Yes, I like it. But every now and then I am drawn back.”
Rosie arrived from the alcove with three mugs.
“You’ll like this,” she said to me.
“It’s my own special brew. And how are you two getting on together? Like a house on fire, I see.”
“Just like that,” said Zingara.
“Lucky you were here when Miss Carmel came visiting,” said Rosie with a pronounced wink.
“It was the luckiest thing,” Zingara agreed.
“Now, what do you think of my tea?” asked Rosie.
“Is it as good as that served by the doctor’s servants?”
“It’s different,” I replied.
“Well, we are different, aren’t we?” said Rosie.
“Well, we can’t all be alike. Did Carmel tell you about the governess?”
“Yes,” answered Zingara.
“She seems to be a very good governess.”
I nodded vigorously.
“I reckon,” said Zingara, ‘that one day they’ll send you away to school. “
“Henry is going with Lucian Crompton,” I told them.
“Well,” said Rosie, ‘that’s good. You’ll be going with the young man’s sister. That’ll make a real lady of you. “
How I enjoyed sitting in the caravan, talking to them. Zingara fascinated me. She had been a gipsy child, running about the encampment and had been taken away by the man who liked her singing and dancing to go on the stage. It was a wonderful story. I should have loved to see her dance. We talked and talked and then I suddenly realized how long I had stayed and that Estella and Miss Carson would be wondering what had happened to me.
I said: “I must go. I ought to be back by now.”
“They’ll miss you, will they?” said Zingara.
They will begin to,” I answered.
They’ll think you’ve been stolen by the gipsies,” put in Rosie with a laugh.
They wouldn’t think that,” I protested.
“You never know,” said Rosie.
“I shall see you again,” Zingara told me.
“Oh, I do hope so,” I said.
She took my hands and gripped them firmly.
“It has been lovely to be with you.” She gave me her dazzling smile and Rosie’s expression was tender and loving. I felt a glow of happiness and wished I need not leave them.