Black-Eyed Susan

by Albert Bigelow Paine

  CHAPTER VI--THE GYPSIES

  Susan sneezed twice, coughed, and looked about her.

  She stood in a tent, round like a circus tent, and the air was heavywith smoke from a fire smouldering on the ground. There were no doors orwindows in the tent, and but little light entered on this dark afternoonthrough a half-dozen rents in the roof.

  But Susan made out in the gloom not only the man and boy who had broughther there, but a plump, dark woman, with gold hoops in her ears, who wasgently wiping the rain from Phil's face, three or four ragged childrendressed in bright reds and yellows, staring intently at her with bigblack eyes, and a dog or two, discreetly lurking in the dim background.

  Susan sneezed again, and the woman turned from Phil and spoke.

  "It's the smoke, dearie," said she kindly. "You'll be used to it in amoment. Tell your little brother not to be afraid. He is among friends.We wouldn't hurt a hair of your heads. Tell him that."

  "I want to go home," said Phil, with under lip thrust out. "I want to gohome."

  "And so you shall," said the woman briskly, "as soon as it stops raininga bit, and my man can find out where you live."

  "Straight up the hill," said Susan quickly. She, too, was eager to be athome. "I saw you at my gate," she added shyly, to the man. "Mygrandfather said 'Sarishan' to you."

  Susan knew the brown velveteen coat, though the red tie was hidden underthe upturned collar.

  The man looked at her a moment, and then he smiled.

  "True enough," said he. "I remember. I'll take you home. I'll harnessthe 'gry' and take them in the van," said he to his wife. "It's stillraining hard. They shall know that the gypsies are good to deal with,and that the worst of them is not James Lee."

  And, whistling his gay little tune, Mr. James Lee lifted the tent flapand went out again into the rain which still pattered musically on thecanvas roof.

  Susan began to enjoy herself. Now that she knew she was going homeshortly, she looked about her with fresh pleasure.

  "It would be fun to live in a tent," she thought,--"so different fromhome. No beds, no chairs, no table. The gypsies must eat sitting on theground, and sleep, perhaps, on that great heap in the corner."

  That it was not very clean, and was very, very crowded, smoky and darkdid not enter Susan's mind.

  She smiled at the children still staring silently at her. Besides thebig boy who, with back turned, seemed busy in the corner, there werethree little girls, two of whom, with coarse black hair and bold eyes,smiled back at Susan and then fell to giggling and poking one another.One of them darted forward and jerked at Susan's scarlet hair-ribbon.The other stole slyly behind her and twitched her dress. They weremischievous, trixy children, and Susan felt uneasy with them. She wasrelieved when their mother, seeing the rough play, exclaimed, "Clearout, you young ones," and drove them away.

  The third little girl, who was scarcely more than a baby, remained inher place, staring solemnly at Susan. She did not look like the otherchildren; indeed, she did not look like a gypsy at all. She was aslender little creature with pale brown hair, large gray eyes, and atiny hooked nose that gave a strange air of determination to her babyface. She held something behind her back, and suddenly she steppedforward and showed it to Susan.

  It was the lost squash baby!

  Susan knew it instantly. It had even the bit of blue rag tied about itsneck.

  "Why, it's my squash baby!" said she, in surprise.

  "Yours, is it?" said Mrs. Lee, coming forward. "My man picked it up inthe road and gave it to Gentilla. Give it back, Gentilla. The littlemiss wants it."

  "No, no, I don't want it," said Susan hastily. "Let her keep it. Is hername 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 dowith 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 fallingrain.

  Susan smiled at Gentilla, who looked soberly back and then moved closerto Susan's side and began stroking the visitor's dress with a tiny handthat 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 whenMrs. 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, whichwas 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'spail--empty! No wonder the big boy, busy eating Phil's berries, hadturned his back in the corner of the tent.

  "Don't cry, Phil. You shall have half my berries. Don't cry. We're goinghome." And Susan waved vigorous good-byes to Mrs. Lee and Gentilla, heldback by her aunt from following Susan into the van.

  Mr. Lee carefully led his horse through the woods to the muddy road, andthen, sitting up in front, drove his old "gry" up the hill towardFeatherbed Lane.

  In the meantime Susan and Phil were looking round the van in surpriseand delight.

  "It's like a little playhouse," said Susan, squeezing Phil's hand. "Oh,I wish I lived in a gypsy van all the time."

  Opposite the door, in the very front of the van, were two beds, oneabove the other like berths on a ship, and broad enough, each one, tohold three or four gypsy children at once, if need be, and as, in fact,they very often did. There was a little cookstove, whose pipe wanderedout of the side of the van in a most unusual way. And alongside thestove was a table, hanging by hinges from the wall. A high chest ofdrawers and two chairs completed the furniture of the van, which lookedvery much like a state-room and felt somewhat like one, too, as itswayed over the hillocks and ruts in the road.

  Up Featherbed Lane bounced the van, and there on the porch stoodGrandmother and Miss Liza, both with white cheeks and anxious faces,while Grandfather came hurrying from the barn where he had beenharnessing old Nero with a speed that quite upset the dignity of thatstaid Roman-nosed beast.

  "Where were you, children?" cried Miss Liza in greeting, twisting thecorner of her apron as she spoke. "I ran up here in all that downpour,and I didn't see a sign of you on the way."

  "My berries are gone," called Phil. "The big boy ate them. And I wasafraid. And we were inside a tent."

  "They are gypsies," said Susan in a low voice to Grandmother, who wascarefully feeling her all over. "They live in a tent. And, inside, thatvan is just like a doll's house. Their name is Lee. I wish I lived in avan; it's better than a tent, I think. And they have the nicest littlegirl you ever saw. Her name is Gentilla Lee. She likes me, I know shedoes, Grandmother. I want to go see her again."

  "You are wet in spots, child, and damp all over," was all Grandmotherreplied. "Come straight in the house and let me put dry clothes on you."

  Grandfather and the gypsy had been talking together all this time, andnow Grandfather put something into Mr. James Lee's hand that made hiswhite teeth gleam in a smile, and caused him to drive first to the storein the village before returning to his hungry family in their tent inthe woods.

  Then Phil was escorted home; Miss Liza was driven back to Miss Lunette,who might be worried sick by her absence, Miss Liza thought, but whoproved to have slept soundly through the storm; and Susan, her tonguewagging, was put into a hot bath and dressed in dry clothes from head tofoot before Grandfather returned.

  "I want to go back and see the gypsies," Susan teased the next day. "Iwant to see Gentilla. Please, Grandfather, take me to see the gypsies."

  So Grandmother baked a cake in her largest tin, and at the village storeGrandfather and Susan purchased several yards of bright red hair-ribbon.With these offerings they made their way to the gypsy tent, and receiveda hospitable w
elcome.

  The van, with all its conveniences, was willingly displayed, andGrandfather was invited to test with his hand the softness of the beds,the like of which, Mrs. Lee declared, was not to be found in kings'palaces. Privately, Grandfather believed this to be true, but, ofcourse, he didn't say it aloud.

  To-day, with the sun shining, and the dogs gnawing a bone at a safedistance in the grass, the tent seemed to Susan even more attractivethan before. She thought with scorn of her own white little room athome, and wished with all her heart that she had been born a gypsychild. Even the two bold little girls seemed pleasanter, and indeed,delighted with their new hair-ribbons and awed by Grandfather'spresence, they were more quiet and well-behaved, at least during Susan'scall.

  The big boy silently devoured his share of Grandmother's cake, and then,with a hungry look still gleaming in his eyes, gazed so longingly at thecrumbs remaining that Grandfather took pity upon him. With a turn of hishand he flipped a piece of money at the lad so that, with sure aim, hestruck the boy's bare foot.

  "Go buy something to eat with it," commanded Grandfather.

  Pulling at his tangled hair in a rough bow of thanks, the boy, waitingfor no second bidding, vanished among the trees and was seen no more byhis family that afternoon.

  Mr. James Lee entertained Grandfather as one gentleman should another.He had many stories of adventure to tell, and he even brought out hisfiddle from under the beds and played several lively gypsy tunes.

  "Shall I tell the little miss's fortune?" asked Mrs. Lee, with ahalf-sly look, and she laughed outright when Grandfather shook his headwith a smile.

  "I believe in your fortune-telling just about as much as you do," heanswered. "My granddaughter seems perfectly happy this moment. Shedoesn't need any better fortune than she has."

  Nor did she, for she and Gentilla, still carrying the squash baby, hadbecome good friends and were enjoying their play together equally well.They walked off, hand in hand, Susan helping Gentilla over the roughplaces and mothering her to her heart's delight. She washed her newbaby's face and hands in the brook and dried them upon her ownhandkerchief. She told her about Flip, and Snowball, and Snuff, to whichGentilla listened with a roll of her big gray eyes. She, herself, didn'ttalk very much, but Susan quite made up for this lack, and had begun toteach her "Two little blackbirds sat upon a hill," when she heardGrandfather calling and knew that she must go.

  "I don't want to leave Gentilla," said Susan, as she joined the groupbefore the tent. "Do you suppose I can come and play with herto-morrow?" "Perhaps Mrs. Lee will let Gentilla come and play with you,"answered Mr. Whiting, who thought Susan better off at home than in thegypsy camp.

  So it was settled that Mr. James Lee would bring Gentilla to-morrow tospend the day, and Susan went home with a happy heart, chattering toGrandfather about her new-found friends.

  "Wouldn't you like to be a gypsy, Grandfather?" asked she. "Wouldn't youlike to live in a tent? Why isn't everybody a gypsy? It's such a niceway to live."

  "Well, Susan, most people think it better to stay in one place insteadof wandering over the face of the earth," answered Grandfather. "Andamong other things, they want their children to go to school and tochurch, too."

  "I don't care so much about going to school," said Susan, honestly. "Iknow I would like to live in a tent and ride around in that van."

  "It seems pleasant enough now, while it is warm weather," admittedGrandfather. "But what about cold, and rain, and snow, and not any toomuch to eat?"

  "They were hungry, weren't they?" pondered Susan. "How they did likeGrandmother's cake!"

  That night at supper Susan looked round the pleasant, well-lighted room,with its table spread with good things to eat. She thought of the tentin the woods, the trees standing tall and black about it, and thenear-by brook gurgling over its stones without a pause. It seemed darkand dreary and lonely, and with a little shudder Susan bent down andwhispered to Snuff:

  "I wouldn't have us be gypsies, Snuff, for anything in the world."

  And when she went to bed, she astonished Grandmother by saying in themidst of her prayers:

  "Thank you, God, for not making Grandmother a gypsy, because then Iwouldn't have any apple sauce for my supper."