Now the roving gipsy was not by any means intoxicated at this time; that is to say, she may have been partaking of gin, or gin and water, or may have been sucking sugar that had gin on it, or she may have been taking a little gin and peppermint for a stomach-ache, or she may have been bathing her head in gin, or have been otherwise making use of that potent remedy as a medicine, but she was by no means a subject for official interference in case she had wandered into the street, but she was, to tell the truth, not in her most clear-headed condition; although probably she did not see more than one Cash Customer sitting solemnly before her, still that one was quite as many as she could well manage at that time. After the signal failure of her little demonstration on the hand of her guest, she, by a strong effort, seemed to concentrate her faculties, and after several trials she roused herself and spoke as follows, emphasizing the short words with spiteful vindictiveness, and paying the most particular attention to the improper aspiration of the h’s. “You _are_ a person as _has_ seen a great deal _of_ dif—” The gay Bohemian here evidently desired to say “difficulty,” but the word was a sad stumbling-block, a four-syllable rock ahead which was too much for her powers in her then exhausted state of mind; she charged on the unfortunate word boldly, however, and tried to carry it by storm, but each time was repulsed with great loss of breath—“a great deal of dif—dif—dif—diffle”—it was no use, so she tried back and began again. “You _are_ a man as _has_ seen a great deal of _diffleculency_,” was what she said, but it didn’t seem to satisfy her, so she tried again, and after a number of trials she hit a happy medium between “_dif_” and “_diffleculency_” and compromised on “_difflety_,” which useful addition to the language she took occasion to repeat as often as possible with an air of decided triumph.