“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.

Then I thanked Rosie for the drink and told them how much I had enjoyed being with them.

Zingara suddenly put her arms round me and held me tightly. She kissed me and Rosie sat very still, smiling.

“She must go,” she said at last. They’ll be waiting for her. “

“Yes,” Zingara said, and came to the door of the caravan with me.

“Better not go with her,” said Rosie.

“Better to let her go on her own.”

Zingara nodded.

I came down the steps and looked back. They were both standing, watching me.

I waved and then sped across the clearing and into the trees.

I had not gone far when I heard the sound of voices. I pulled up sharply and listened. That sounded like the doctor. It could not be.

What would he be doing in the woods at this time?

Quietly I went forward. I did not want to be seen by anyone, for I did not want to talk of my visit to the gipsy encampment. I was not sure why, except that I thought there might be objections, and I did not want to be told I must not go there. I wanted to think about it.

Zingara had made a deep impression on me, as Rosie Perrin had before her. But this was different. I wanted to think about our meeting just by myself. I did not want Estella’s scornful comments. She would say that they had flattered me because they wanted to tell my fortune or something like that.

I wanted to remember every moment clearly, from that one when Jake had stood beside me and said Rosie Perrin would like to see me, to the time when I had left.

So, I must not be seen.

But yes . that was the doctor’s voice, and then . Miss Carson’s.

Then I saw them. They were sitting together on the trunk of a fallen tree. I knew the spot well. I had often sat on that tree-trunk myself.

I had approached them from behind. Otherwise I should have been seen.

I stood for a few moments watching them. They were talking earnestly.

I could not hear what was said, but every now and then one of them laughed, so it must have been amusing. The doctor’s manner was quite different from usual. I had never seen him like that before. As for Miss Carson, she seemed very merry. It struck me how happy she appeared to be.

It was rather strange, because they both seemed like two different people.

I congratulated myself on hearing them before they could have seen me.

I should have had to explain that I had been visiting the gipsies and I did not want to do that, even to Miss Carson.

I turned away and silently made my way back to the house through the trees.

I did go again to the gipsies after that. Rosie Perrin was sitting on the steps of her caravan weaving a basket as she had been when I had first seen her.

She told me Zingara had gone away. She had to fulfill a contract.

People thought highly of her in the theatres, she said, and she danced and sang a lot in the big towns, even London.

We talked a while. She asked me how I had liked Zingara.

I told her, “Very much,” and she pressed my hand and said: “She liked you, too.”

There was a subtle change in Commonwood House. Not in Mrs. Marline so much. She was just as demanding as ever, though Mrs. Barton said she grew worse every day. She never bothered to wait until the door was closed before she started criticizing Dr. Marline again and again, and we heard her reminding him that it was her money which had bought the house, and how he owed everything to her. She seemed to want to hurt everybody, and, perhaps because Adeline was most easily hurt, she seemed to single her out for especially harsh treatment.