e Wynne, I s'pose?' said the landlord, in a state
now of great curiosity.

'It was Winnie Wynne,' replied the Gypsy, handing her companion her
empty beer-pot, and pointing to the landlord as a sign that the man
was to pass it on to him to be refilled. 'Up I goes to her, and I
says, "Why, sister, who's bin a-meddlin' with you? I'll tear the
windpipe out o' anybody wot's been a-meddlin' with you."'

When the girl used the word 'sister' a light broke in upon me.

'Are you Sinfi Lovell?' I cried.

'That jist my name, my rei; but as I said afore, I ain't deaf. Jist
let Jim pass my beer across and don't interrup' me, please.'

'Don't rile her, sir,' whispered the landlord to me; 'she's got the
real witch's eye, and can do you a mischief in a twink, if she likes.
She's a good sort, though, for all that.'

'What are you two a-whisperin' about me?' said the girl in a menacing
tone that seemed to alarm the landlord.

'I was only tellin' the gentleman not to rile you, because you was a
fightin' woman,' said the man.

The Gypsy looked appeased and even gratified at the landlord's
explanation.

'But what did Winnie Wynne do then, Sinfi?' asked the landlord.

'She turns round sharp,' said the Gypsy; 'she looks at me as skeared
as the eyes of a hotchiwitchi [Footnote] as knows he's a-bein'
uncurled for the knife. "_Father!_" she cries, and away she bolts
like a greyhound; and I know'd at oust as she wur under a cuss. Now,
you see, Mr. Blyth, that upset me, _that_ did, for Winnie Wynne was
the only one on 'em, Gorgio or Gorgie, ever I liked. No offence, Mr.
Blyth, it isn't your fault you was born one; but,' continued the
girl, holding up the foaming tankard and admiring the froth as it
dropped from the rim upon her slender brown hand on its way to the
floor, 'Winnie Wynne was the only one on 'em, Gorgio or Gorgie, ever
I liked, and that upset me, _that_ did, to see that 'ere beautiful
cretur a-grinnin' and jabberin' under a cuss. The Romanies is gittin'
too fond by half o' the Gorgios, and will soon be jist like mumply
Gorgios themselves, speckable and silly; but Gorgio or Gorgie, she
was the only one on 'em ever I liked, was Winnie Wynne; and when she
turned round on me like _that_, with them kind eyes o' hern (such
kind eyes _I_ never seed afore) lookin' like _that_ at me (and I
know'd she was under a cuss)--I tell you,' she said, still addressing
the beer, 'that it's made me fret ever since--that's what it's done!'

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