kker_ Romany [talk gypsy to myself], when I'm alone of a
night, when the wind blows. It's better company than talkin' Gorginess.
More sociable. _He_ says--no--_I_ say more sensible things Romaneskas
than in English. You understand me?" he exclaimed suddenly, with the
same wistful stare.

"Perfectly. It's quite reasonable. It must be like having two heads
instead of one, and being twice as knowing as anybody else."

"Yes, that's it. But everybody don't know it."

"What do you ask for one of those flower-stands, Dick?"

"A shillin', sir."

"Well, here is my name and where I live, on an envelope. And here are
two shillings. But if you _chore mandy_ [cheat me] and don't leave it at
the house, I'll look you up in the Potteries, and _koor tute_ [whip
you]."

He looked at me very seriously. "Ah, yes. You could _koor me kenna_
[whip me now]. But you couldn't have _koored_ my _dadas_ [whipped my
father]. Leastways not afore he got his leg broken fightin' Lancaster
Sam. You must have heard of my father,--Single-stick Dick. But if
your're comin' down to the Potteries, don't come next Sunday. Come
Sunday three weeks. My brother is _stardo kenna_ for _chorin_ a _gry_
[in prison for horse-stealing]. In three weeks he'll be let out, and
we're goin' to have a great family party to welcome him, and we'll be
glad to see you. Do come."

The flower-stand was faithfully delivered, but another engagement
prevented an acceptance of the invitation, and I have never seen Dick
since.

* * * * *

I was walking along Marylebone Road, which always seems to be a worn and
wind-beaten street, very pretty once, and now repenting it; when just
beyond Baker Street station I saw a gypsy van hung all round with baskets
and wooden-ware. Smoke issued from its pipe, and it went along smoking
like any careless pedestrian. It always seems strange to think of a
family being thus conveyed with its dinner cooking, the children playing
about the stove, over rural roads, past common and gorse and hedge, in
and out of villages, and through Great Babylon itself, as if the family
had a _pied a terre_, and were as secluded all the time as though they
lived in Little Pedlington or Tinnecum. For they have just the same
narrow range of gossip, and just the same set of friends, though the set
are always on the move. Traveling does not make a cosmopolite.

By the van strolled the lord and master, with his wife