'but if you do call this the Garden of Eden, I daresay
there are plenty of serpents about.'

'And many Adams and Eves!' said Dr Graham, surveying the company with
his usual cynicism; 'but I don't see Lilith, Mrs Pansey.'

'Lilith, doctor! what an improper name!'

'And what an improper person, my dear lady. Lilith was the other wife of
Father Adam.'

'How dare you, Dr Graham! the first man a bigamist! Ridiculous! Profane!
Only one rib was taken out of Adam!'

'Lilith wasn't manufactured out of a rib, Mrs Pansey. The devil created
her to deceive Adam. At least, so the Rabbinists tell us!'

'Oh, those Jewish creatures!' said the lady, with a sniff. 'I don't
think much of their opinion. What do Jews know about the Bible?'

'As much as authors generally know about their own books, I suppose,'
said Graham, drily.

'We are becoming theological,' observed Cargrim, smoothly.

'Not to say blasphemous,' growled Mrs Pansey; 'at least, the doctor is,
like all sceptics of his infidel profession. Remember Ananias and his
lies, sir.' 'I shall rather remember Eve and her curiosity,' laughed
Graham, 'and to follow so good an example let me inquire what yonder
very pretty tent contains, Mrs Pansey?'

'That is a piece of Daisy's foolishness, doctor. It contains a gipsy,
whom she induced me to hire for some fortune-telling rubbish.'

'Oh, how sweet! how jolly!' cried a mixed chorus of young voices. 'A
real gipsy, Mrs Pansey?' and the good lady was besieged with questions.

'She is cunning and dirty enough to be genuine, my dears. Some of you
may know her. Mother Jael!'

'Aroint thee, witch!' cried Dr Graham, 'that old beldam; oh, she can
"pen dukherin" to some purpose. I have heard of her; so have the
police.'

'What language is that?' asked Miss Whichello, who came up at this
moment with a smile and a word for all; 'it sounds like swearing.'

'I'd like to see anyone swear here,' said Mrs Pansey, grimly.

'Set your mind at rest, dear lady, I was speaking Romany--the black
language--the calo jib which the gipsies brought from the East when they
came to plunder the hen-coops of Europe.'

'Do you mean to tell me that those creatures have a language of their
own?' asked Miss Whichello, disbelievingly.

'Why not? I daresay their ancestors made bricks on the plain of Shinar,
and were lucky enough to gain a language without the trouble of learning
it.'

'You allude to the Tower of Babel, sir!' said Mrs Pansey, with a scowl.