all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some babies give. The gipsy
woman moved her finger about on his forehead as if she had been writing
something there, and the same with his chest and his hands and his
feet; then she said--

"May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong
heart to love with, and the strong arms to work with, and the strong
feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own." Then she
said something in a strange language no one could understand, and
suddenly added--

"Well, I must be saying 'so long'--and glad to have made your
acquaintance." And she turned and went back to her home--the tent by the
grassy roadside.

The children looked after her till she was out of sight. Then Robert
said, "How silly of her! Even sunset didn't put _her_ right. What rot
she talked!"

"Well," said Cyril, "if you ask me, I think it was rather decent of
her"--

"Decent?" said Anthea; "it was very nice indeed of her. I think she's a
dear"--

"She's just too frightfully nice for anything," said Jane.

And they went home--very late for tea and unspeakably late for dinner.
Martha scolded, of course. But the Lamb was safe.