something for their presents? I don't
mean dukkerin, dancing, and the like; but such a moderate and innocent
thing as a choomer, {68a} Ursula?'

'Innocent thing, do you call it, brother?'

'The world calls it so, Ursula. Well, do the people who give you the
fine things never expect a choomer in return?'

'Very frequently, brother.'

'And do you ever grant it?'

'Never, brother.'

'How do you avoid it?'

'I gets away as soon as possible, brother. If they follows me, I tries
to baffle them, by means of jests and laughter; and if they persist, I
uses bad and terrible language, of which I have plenty in store.'

'But if your terrible language has no effect?'

'Then I screams for the constable, and if he comes not, I uses my teeth
and nails.'

'And are they always sufficient?'

'I have only had to use them twice, brother; but then I found them
sufficient.'

'But suppose the person who followed you was highly agreeable, Ursula? A
handsome young officer of local militia, for example, all dressed in
Lincoln green, would you still refuse him the choomer?'

'We makes no difference, brother; the daughters of the gypsy-father makes
no difference; and, what's more, sees none.'

'Well, Ursula, the world will hardly give you credit for such
indifference.'

'What cares we for the world, brother! we are not of the world.'

'But your fathers, brothers, and uncles, give you credit I suppose,
Ursula.'

'Ay, ay, brother, our fathers, brothers, and cokos {68b} gives us all
manner of credit; for example, I am telling lies and dukkerin in a
public-house where my batu {69} or coko--perhaps both--are playing on the
fiddle; well, my batu and my coko beholds me amongst the public-house
crew, talking nonsense and hearing nonsense; but they are under no
apprehension; and presently they sees the good-looking officer of
militia, in his greens and Lincolns, get up and give me a wink, and I go
out with him abroad, into the dark night perhaps; well, my batu and my
coko goes on fiddling, just as if I were six miles off asleep in the
tent, and not out in the dark street with the local officer, with his
Lincolns and his greens.'

'They know they can trust you, Ursula?'

'Ay, ay, brother; and, what's more, I knows I can trust myself.'

'So you would merely go out to make a fool of him, Ursula?'

'Merely go out to make a fool of him, brother, I assure you.'

'But such proceedings really have an odd look, Ursula.'

'Amongst g