I noticed that nevertheless he dutifully washed his hands but made a lame attempt to assert his position as head of the establishment at the expense of the puppy that had just nestled down upon his bed, exclaiming as he turned it out— “Git hout you, d’ye ’ear, I don’t want no fleas in my bed,—never had a dog in my tent and ain’t agoin’ to; get hout.” In this camp, however, as in many another, the woman ruled. Even a short acquaintance with almost any of these wanderers will reveal the fact that they possess quite a fund of humour, and will not infrequently make quaint, trite, or humorous allusions, sometimes even intensely funny remarks, and be, apparently, quite unconscious of doing so, the family with whom I was now fraternizing being no exception. After the meal, when the younger children had been packed away, the conversation touched upon a number of subjects, varying from theft to aeroplanes, and from personal cleanliness to disasters at sea,—for the gypsy seems to be unable to concentrate his attention for any length of time, but wanders from subject to subject. In conversing with them one should not be surprised if the conversation takes all sorts of twists and turns. That the gypsy is incapable of viewing matters from a standpoint other than his own, must be considered as the inevitable result of his aloofness. Some reference having been made to the distinctions of _meum_ and _tuum_, the mother said— “Do you know what I’d do if a child o’ mine was to beg, or collar anything? Why I’d prison him for three weeks an’ feed him on bread and water, that’s the truth,—I ain’t a lyin’ woman though I’m sittin’ here,—an’ I can’t abide dirty children,” she continued. “Cleanliness is next to godliness, they say, an’ you gets a big lump o’ soap for a penny nowadays, and I can tell you, Rye, my kiddies ain’t chiklo neither.” The fact that the tents were in decent condition and the children had appeared fairly well clothed and shod had not escaped my notice, while the meal which had just been partaken of had been on a more lavish scale than I had anticipated and I made some remark to that effect. “Yes, thank God!” was the unmistakably sincere reply of the man. “I’ve bin in work most o’ the time the last four months, ain’t I, mother?—but we knows what it is to have nothin’ inside, and because we have to get used to the feel of a hungry belly it ain’t to say we likes it. D’you know, Rye, many’s the time I’ve gone to sleep for an hour or two in the daytime when I couldn’t get no work, so I could forget I was hungry.” At this point the wife addressed me, proffering the advice—