"I hear it on the leaves. I can't run. Let's sit down under a tree."

"No, no!" exclaimed Susan, seizing his hand. "Come on! It's blue sky overhead. I want to get home to Grandmother. I don't like it in the woods in the rain. Come on! Do hurry-Run!"

The tiny patch of blue sky upon which Susan had pinned her faith had been rapidly growing smaller. Now it was altogether out of sight. There was a sharp flash of lightning, a loud clap of thunder, and down came the rain like the bursting of a waterspout.

"Oh, run, Philly, run!" called Susan, darting to the side of the road.

"Come here with me under the trees."

A flash of lightning and long roll of thunder came just at that moment, and put to flight all Phil's small stock of courage. He was frightened and tired, and he could endure no more. He dropped his pail of precious berries to the ground, he let fall his slippers, and, standing in the downpour, he lifted up his voice and wept.

"Mamma, Mamma!" wailed Phil. "I want Mamma!"

Poor Susan was distracted. Her lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears, but she bravely ran out into the road again and caught Phil by the arm.

"Come, Philly, come," entreated Susan.

But Phil, bewildered by the dazzling flashes of light and peals of thunder, was beside himself with fear. He jerked his arm away and ran screaming up the road, splashing through puddles as he went.

"Oh, Philly! Oh, Grandfather! Oh, Grandfather!" wailed Susan. She felt that the end of the world had come.

But deliverance was at hand.

Out of the woods appeared a man and a boy. The man easily overtook Phil and lifted him in his arms.

"Don't be afraid, missy," called he to Susan above Phil's screams. "Come along with me."

The boy had gathered up the scattered bundles, and he now grasped Susan's hand, and so, dripping with rain, the little party vanished into the shelter of the woods.

CHAPTER VI-THE GYPSIES

Susan sneezed twice, coughed, and looked about her.

She stood in a tent, round like a circus tent, and the air was heavy with smoke from a fire smouldering on the ground. There were no doors or windows in the tent, and but little light entered on this dark afternoon through a half-dozen rents in the roof.

But Susan made out in the gloom not only the man and boy who had brought her there, but a plump, dark woman, with gold hoops in her ears, who was gently wiping the rain from Phil's face, three or four ragged children dressed in bright reds and yellows, staring intently at her with big black eyes, and a dog or two, discreetly lurking in the dim background.

Susan sneezed again, and the woman turned from Phil and spoke.

"It's the smoke, dearie," said she kindly. "You'll be used to it in a moment. Tell your little brother not to be afraid. He is among friends.

We wouldn't hurt a hair of your heads. Tell him that."

"I want to go home," said Phil, with under lip thrust out. "I want to go home."

"And so you shall," said the woman briskly, "as soon as it stops raining a bit, and my man can find out where you live."

"Straight up the hill," said Susan quickly. She, too, was eager to be at home. "I saw you at my gate," she added shyly, to the man. "My grandfather said 'Sarishan' to you."

Susan knew the brown velveteen coat, though the red tie was hidden under the upturned collar.

The man looked at her a moment, and then he smiled.

"True enough," said he. "I remember. I'll take you home. I'll harness the 'gry' and take them in the van," said he to his wife. "It's still raining hard. They shall know that the gypsies are good to deal with, and that the worst of them is not James Lee."

And, whistling his gay little tune, Mr. James Lee lifted the tent flap and went out again into the rain which still pattered musically on the canvas roof.

Susan began to enjoy herself. Now that she knew she was going home shortly, she looked about her with fresh pleasure.

"It would be fun to live in a tent," she thought,-"so different from home. No beds, no chairs, no table. The gypsies must eat sitting on the ground, and sleep, perhaps, on that great heap in the corner."

That it was not very clean, and was very, very crowded, smoky and dark did not enter Susan's mind.

She smiled at the children still staring silently at her. Besides the big boy who, with back turned, seemed busy in the corner, there were three little girls, two of whom, with coa.r.s.e black hair and bold eyes, smiled back at Susan and then fell to giggling and poking one another.

One of them darted forward and jerked at Susan's scarlet hair-ribbon.

The other stole slyly behind her and twitched her dress. They were mischievous, trixy children, and Susan felt uneasy with them. She was relieved when their mother, seeing the rough play, exclaimed, "Clear out, you young ones," and drove them away.

The third little girl, who was scarcely more than a baby, remained in her place, staring solemnly at Susan. She did not look like the other children; indeed, she did not look like a gypsy at all. She was a slender little creature with pale brown hair, large gray eyes, and a tiny hooked nose that gave a strange air of determination to her baby face. She held something behind her back, and suddenly she stepped forward and showed it to Susan.

It was the lost squash baby!

Susan knew it instantly. It had even the bit of blue rag tied about its neck.

"Why, it's my squash baby!" said she, in surprise.

"Yours, is it?" said Mrs. Lee, coming forward. "My man picked it up in the road and gave it to Gentilla. Give it back, Gentilla. The little miss wants it."

"No, no, I don't want it," said Susan hastily. "Let her keep it. Is her name Gentilla? She is a nice little girl."

"Gentilla Lee, a good gypsy name," returned Mrs. Lee. "She is an orphan.

She is my husband's brother's child. You might think I had enough to do with three children of my own. But no, I must have one more." And Mrs.

Lee lifted the tent flap and moodily looked out into the still falling rain.

Susan smiled at Gentilla, who looked soberly back and then moved closer to Susan's side and began stroking the visitor's dress with a tiny hand that was far from clean. Suddenly she slipped her hand in Susan's, and, swinging round on it, smiled up into her face.

It seemed a good beginning of a friendship, and Susan was sorry when Mrs. Lee turned round in the doorway and said:

"Here comes my man with the van. You will be home in no time now."

Through the woods stepped Mr. James Lee leading a bony gray horse, which was drawing a gypsy van, gay with bright red and green and black paint.

He opened the door in the back of the van and helped the children in.

"My pail," said Phil, clutching his slippers. "I've lost my pail."

Mrs. Lee disappeared into the tent, and came out in a moment with Phil's pail-empty! No wonder the big boy, busy eating Phil's berries, had turned his back in the corner of the tent.

"Don't cry, Phil. You shall have half my berries. Don't cry. We're going home." And Susan waved vigorous good-byes to Mrs. Lee and Gentilla, held back by her aunt from following Susan into the van.