"You must not rest near the farm nor near the village houses. The bread you will receive at the gate of the farm-yard; you may send some one there to fetch it. If you light a fire in any of our fields, take care not to go too near the sheaves; we shall look after you. Let none of you stroll about the estate or into the village to tell fortunes to people, for we do not permit it." "We do not tell fortunes," answered the woman, touching a small black cross which she wore around her neck. "None here below know the future, nor do we." Ilse bent her head reverently. "Well said," said she. "According to the meaning which seems conveyed in your words, you do not remind me in vain of the communion which exists between us. Come to the gate yourself, mother, and await me there; if you need anything for your little ones, I will endeavor to help you." "We have a sick child, my pretty young lady, and the boys are in want of clothes," begged the gypsy woman. "I will come, and my people shall do as you wish." She gave a sign, and the wild troop tramped obediently along the side-road that led to the village. The friends looked with curiosity after the band. "That such a scene should be possible in this country I could never have believed," cried the Doctor. "They were formerly quite a nuisance to us," replied Ilse, with indifference; "they are seldom about, now. My father keeps strict order, and that they know right well. But we must go back to the farm-yard, for there can be no harm in caution with this thievish race." They hastened back to the farm-yard. The Doctor lamented heartily that his intended journey prevented him from obtaining information from the strangers respecting the secrets of their language. Ilse called the Inspector, and the intelligence that there were gypsies in the neighborhood flew like wildfire over the farm. The stables were guarded, the poultry and families of fatted pigs were put in the charge of stout maids, and the shepherds and ploughmen received orders to keep watch at night. Ilse called the children and gave them their supper, but found it difficult to control their excitement. The youngest were given over to Mademoiselle, and under strong protest and many tears were consigned to the secure protection of their beds. Then Ilse collected old gowns and linen, gave a maid two huge loaves, and prepared to go to the gate of the farm-yard, where the gypsy woman was to await her. The Doctor, in his joy about the strangers, had cast off all anxiety concerning his friend. "Allow us to witness the interview with the sibyl," he begged. They found the gypsy woman sitting in the dusk before the gate. Near her was a half-grown maiden, with brilliant eyes and long tresses, but scanty dress. The woman rose and received with a distinguished air the bounty which Ilse handed to her.