Adele inclined her head, and I slid a hand into my pocket.

“Come hither to me, my lady,” piped the old dame, “and let your man cross my old palm with silver, and I’ll tell you your fortune.  Ah, but you have a happy face.”

Adele looked at me, and I nodded.

“They’re a good folk,” I said, “and you’ll get better stuff for your money than you would in Bond Street.  But don’t, if you don’t want to.”

My words could not have been heard by the gipsy.  Yet, before Adele could reply—­

“Aye,” she said, “the pretty gentleman’s right.  We’re a good folk, and there be some among us can see farther than the dwellers in towns.”  Adele started, and the crone laughed.  “Come hither, my lady, and let me look in your eyes.”

She was an old, old woman, but the snow-white hair that thrust from beneath her kerchief was not thin:  her face was shrunken and wrinkled, yet apple-cheeked:  and her great sloe-black eyes glowed with a strange brilliance, as if there were fires kindled deep in the wasted sockets.

Adele stepped forward, when, to my amazement, the gipsy put up her hands and groped for the girl’s shoulders.  The significance of the gesture was plain.  She was stone blind.

For a while she mumbled, and, since I had not gone close, I did not hear what she said.  But Adele was smiling, and I saw the colour come flooding into her cheeks....

Then the old dame lifted up her voice and called to me to come also.

I went to her side.

An old gnarled hand fumbled its way on to my arm.

“Aye,” she piped.  “Aye.  Tis as I thought.  Your man also must lose ere he find.  Together ye shall lose, and together gain.  And ye shall comfort one another.”

The tremulous voice ceased, and the hands slipped away.

I gave her money and Adele thanked her prettily.

She cried a blessing upon us, I whistled to Nobby, and we strolled on....

“Look at that baby,” said Adele.  “Isn’t he cute?”

“Half a second,” said I, turning and whistling.  “Which baby?”

“There,” said Adele, pointing.  “With the golden hair.”

A half-naked sun-kissed child regarded us with a shy smile.  It was impossible not to respond....

Again I turned and whistled.

“Where can he be?” said Adele anxiously.

“Oh, he always turns up,” I said.  “But, if you don’t mind going back a little way, it’ll save time.  With all this noise...”

We went back a little way.  Then we went back a long way.  Then we asked people if they had seen a little white dog with a black patch.  Always the answer was in the negative.  One man laughed and said something about “a dog in a fair,” and Fear began to knock at my heart.  I whistled until the muscles of my lips ached.  Adele wanted us to search separately, but I refused.  It was not a place for her to wander alone.  Feverishly we sought everywhere.  Twice a white dog sent our hopes soaring, only to prove a stranger and dash them lower than before.  Round and about and in and out among the booths and swings and merry-go-rounds we hastened, whistling, calling and inquiring in vain.  Nobby was lost.