t?"

"Half-past four," said Macey.

"Plenty of time before he gets home from work."

Vane started off at such a rate that Macey had to cry out for respite as
they struck out of the wood, and reached a lane where, to their
surprise, they came plump upon the gipsies camped by the roadside, with
a good fire burning, and their miserable horse cropping the grass in
peace.

The first objects their eyes lit upon were the women who were busily
cooking; and Vane advanced and offered his basket of vegetable
treasures, but they all laughed and shook their heads, and the oldest
woman of the party grunted out the word "poison."

"There," said Macey, as they went along the lane, "you hear. They ought
to know whether those are good or no. If they were nice, do you think
the gipsies would let them rot in the woods."

"But, you see, they don't know," said Vane quietly, and then he gripped
his companion's arm. "What's that?" he whispered.

"Some one talking in the wood."

"Poaching perhaps," said Vane, as he peered in amongst the trees.

Just then the voice ceased, and there was a rustling in amongst the
bushes at the edge of the wood, as if somebody was forcing his way
through, and resulting in one of the gipsy lads they had before seen,
leaping out into the narrow deep lane, followed by the other.

The lads seemed to be so astonished at the encounter that they stood
staring at Vane and Macey for a few moments, then looked at each other,
and then, as if moved by the same impulse, they turned and rushed back
into the wood, and were hidden from sight directly.

"What's the matter with them?" said Vane. "They must have been at some
mischief."

"Mad, I think," said Macey. "All gipsies are half mad, or they wouldn't
go about, leading such a miserable life as they do. Song says a gipsy's
life is a merry life. Oh, is it? Nice life in wet, cold weather. They
don't look very merry, then."

"Never mind: it's nothing to do with us. Come along."

Half-an-hour's walking brought them into the open fields, and as they
stood at the end of the lane in the shade of an oak tree, Macey said
suddenly:

"I say, there's old Distie yonder. Where has he been? Bet twopence it
was to see the gipsies and get his fortune told."

"For a walk as far as here, perhaps, and now he is going back."

Macey said it "seemed rum," and they turned off then to reach Bruff's
cottage, close to the little town.

"I don't see anything rum in it,"