The deposit was part of a game which the Gypsies refused to play otherwise than by rule. And so humble Worsho Kokoiesko would fish out the single gold piece which represented all his fortune which his wife did not wear, and the great Kola would brandish bundles of French notes in the face of his victim. Kola was accustomed—perhaps wisely—to flaunt his wealth, but some of his relations who were also well-to-do used professions of poverty as arguments when soliciting work. To their strangely illogical minds simulated indigence was not inconsistent with the exhibition of large sums of money. I have myself assisted, as dragoman, in their negotiations with an important manufacturer of jam. “Tell him,” they said, “that we are Hungarian coppersmiths.” This I did, without serious scruples, adding at their command, and with a clear conscience, that their work was excellent. To their next instructions, “Tell him that our wives are starving and our children crying for bread,” I was inclined to demur, but was sternly overruled. The jam-manufacturer was visibly affected, and pity for these strangers within our inhospitable gates appeared for a moment in his face. But only for a moment; hurriedly thrusting a bundle covered with red silk into my hands, the Gypsies added: “Show him this; tell him not to be afraid to trust us.” And as I untied the knots twenty great yellow coins appeared—£80 in solid gold! No less conspicuous than their want of finesse was their want of organization. They neither divided the city into districts to parcel them out among their members, nor even the users of copper vessels into classes. Collecting addresses from strangers they met casually, they visited factories and institutions at random, wasting much time in long tramps from one extreme end of the town to the other and then immediately back to the first district. Lucky the man who discovered a new, unvisited manufactory; a courteous reception and patient hearing were generally given him. The patience of most manufacturers had been early exhausted by the repeated and lengthy invasions of other members of the tribe, and they were in no mood for further interviews. Some of the more enterprising and wealthy Gypsies seemed to realize this, for they made expensive journeys from Birkenhead to Manchester, Leeds, and even the Isle of Man. The disappointingly small results would have disheartened an ordinary commercial traveller, but the Gypsies were anything but ordinary travellers. And gradually their patience was rewarded, and the camp became littered with cauldrons and pots awaiting repair, striking evidence of the almost miraculous power of sheer, unreasoning tenacity. 4. THE TALE OF A TUB.