I don't want it known.

Ever see a gipsy ?" "Oh, yes--often." "Next time you see one you'll know why he wears so many buttons.
You've a lot to learn." The van zigzagged down one hill and up another, and halted at a turnpike.

An old woman in a pink sun-bonnet bustled out and handed Joby a pink ticket.

A little way beyond they passed the angle of a mining district, with four or five engine-houses high up like castles on the hillside, and rows of stamps clattering and working up and down like ogres' teeth.

Next they came to a church town, with a green and a heap of linen spread to dry (for it was Tuesday), and a flock of geese that ran and hissed after the van, until Joby took the whip and, leaning out, looped the gander by the neck and pulled him along in the dust.