tive poverty to what might be called wealth,
and risen in the same way, that is to say, by straightforward dealing
with the Gorgios, although as regarded Jericho, Rhona was generally
credited with having acted as a great auxiliary in amassing his
wealth. All over the country the farmers and horse-dealers knew that
neither Jasper nor Panuel ever bishoped a gry, or indulged in any
other horse-dealing tricks. Their very simplicity of character had
done what all the crafty tricks of certain compeers of theirs had
failed to do. They were also very much alike in their good-natured
and humorous, way of taking all the ups and downs of life.
A very different kind of Romany was the Scollard--so different,
indeed, that it was hard to think that he was of the same race:
Romany guile incarnate was the Scollard. He suggested even in his
personal appearance the typical Gypsy of the novel and the stage,
rather than the true Gypsy as he lives and moves. The Scollard was
well known to be half-crazed with a passion for Rhona Boswell, who
was _the fiancee_ of that cousin of mine, Percy Aylwin, before
mentioned. Percy was considered to be a hopelessly erratic character.
Much against the wish of his parents, he had been brought up as a
sailor; but on seeing Rhona Boswell he promptly fell in love with
her, and quitted the sea in order to be near her. And no man who ever
heard Rhona's laugh professed to wonder at Percy's infatuation. As a
Griengro her father, Jericho Boswell, who had no son, was said to
have owed his prosperity to Rhona's instinctive knowledge of
horseflesh.
While our guests, Romany and Gorgio, were doing justice to the trout,
Welsh brown bread and butter and jam which Videy had spread before
them, Sinfi went to the back of the camp to look at the ponies, and I
got into conversation with Rhona Boswell, whom I remembered so well
as a child. At first she was shy and embarrassed, doubtful, as I
perceived, whether or not she ought to talk about Winnie. She waited
to see whether I introduced the subject, and finding that I did not,
she began to talk about Sinfi and plied me with questions as to what
we two had been doing and where we had been during our wanderings
through Wales.
When tea was over and Cyril was in lively talk with Sinfi, Wilderspin
grew restless, and I perceived that he wanted to resume his
conversation with me about his picture. I said to him: 'This idea o
f my father's which has inspired you, and resulted i
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