passionately observes, to my further confusion,—as the harper strides away, richer by a gift of sixpence taken without thanks. … "But I think he must be a gipsy. Gipsies are bad people—and they are wizards. … Let us go back to the wood."
We climb again to the pines, and there squat down upon the sun-flecked grass, and look over town and sea. But we do not play as before: the spell of the wizard is strong upon us both. … "Perhaps he is a goblin," I venture at last, "or a fairy?" "No," says Robert,—"only a gipsy. But that is nearly as bad. They steal children, you know." …
"What shall we do if he comes up here?" I gasp, in sudden terror at the lonesomeness of our situation.
"Oh, he would n't dare," answers Robert—"not by daylight, you know." …
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[Only yesterday, near the village of Takata, I noticed a flower which the Japanese call by nearly the same name as we do: Hi-mawari, "The Sunward-turning;"—and over the space of forty years there thrilled back to me the voice of that wandering harper,—
