ABOUT BUYING A HORSE. 165 



ever. It strikes me that Murgle and Chalvey are conspiring. 

 I fancy that they are both Gipsies ; which is worse, I imagine, 

 than being Freemasons, as they have signs and a language 

 of their own impossible for me to understand. 



Happy Thought. — On guard. 



Cazell critical. Murgle dubious as to which side he's to 

 take. Chalvey steady, but indifferent, apparently, to results. 

 Myself watchful all round. Chalvey opens the ceremonies 

 with a respectful touch of his cap. This from a Gipsy, a 

 being free as the air, owning no sovereign (this by the way, 

 pecuniarily speaking, is highly probable), with a tribe at his 

 beck and call, ought to be reassuring. But it isn't. The 

 fact is, I have a sort of notion that if Gipsy Chalvey were to 

 give a peculiar whistle, heads of Gipsies — the heads of the 

 tribe — would pop up in every direction; probably with a 

 chorus. That's my idea of Gipsies. My Aunt, who has 

 returned home suddenly, and has been, unknown to me till 

 now, surveying the scene from her bed-room window, has her 

 notion of Gipsies in connection with chickens, and infant 

 >ieirs to vast estates. She calls to me, and " wonders how 

 on earth I can have anything to do with that suspicious- 

 looking man," meaning Chalvey. 



" For goodness' sake," she says, " do get rid of him as 

 quickly as possible, or v/e sha'n't have a chicken left in the 

 place." 



I assure her (entirely against my own conviction) that 

 Gipsies are the most harmless people, and beg her not to be 

 frightened. She refuses to retire from the window, being 



