which shone like burning coals, and which were filled with an
expression both of scorn and malignity. "It is wonderful, is it, that we
should have a language of our own? What, you grudge the poor people the
speech they talk among themselves? That's just like you Gorgios, you
would have everybody stupid, single-tongued idiots, like yourselves. We
are taken before the Poknees of the gav, {164b} myself and sister, to
give an account of ourselves. So I says to my sister's little boy,
speaking Rommany, I says to the little boy who is with us, run to my son
Jasper, and the rest, and tell them to be off, there are hawks abroad. So
the Poknees questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make anything
of us; but, as we are going, he calls us back. 'Good woman,' says the
Poknees, 'what was that I heard you say just now to the little boy?' 'I
was telling him, your worship, to go and see the time of day, and, to
save trouble, I said it in our language.' 'Where did you get that
language?' says the Poknees. ''Tis our own language, sir,' I tells him,
'we did not steal it.' 'Shall I tell you what it is, my good woman?'
says the Poknees. 'I would thank you, sir,' says I, 'for 'tis often we
are asked about it.' 'Well, then,' says the Poknees, 'it is no language
at all, merely a made-up gibberish.' 'Oh, bless your wisdom,' says I,
with a curtsey, 'you can tell us what our language is, without
understanding it!' Another time we meet a parson. 'Good woman,' says
he, 'what's that you are talking? Is it broken language?' 'Of course,
your reverence,' says I, 'we are broken people; give a shilling, your
reverence, to the poor broken woman.' Oh, these Gorgios! they grudge us
our very language!"

"She called you her son, Jasper?"

"I am her son, brother."

"I thought you said your parents were--"

"Bitchadey pawdel; you thought right, brother. This is my wife's
mother."

"Then you are married, Jasper?"

"Ay, truly; I am husband and father. You will see wife and chabo {165a}
anon."

"Where are they now?"

"In the gav, penning dukkerin." {165b}

"We were talking of language, Jasper."

"True, brother."

"Yours must be a rum one."

"'Tis called Rommany."

"I would gladly know it."

"You need it sorely."

"Would you teach it me?"

"None sooner."

"Suppose we begin now?"

"Suppose we do, brother."

"Not whilst I am here," said the woman, flinging her knitting down, and
starting upon her feet; "not w