Should this work ever fall into her hands, she will learn it all, and with it the fact that Gipsies can talk double about as well as any human beings on the face of the earth, and enjoy fun with as grave a face as any Ojib'wa of them all.
The habits of the Gipsy are pleasantly illustrated by the fact that the collection of "animated books," which no Rommany gentleman's library should be without, generally includes a jackdaw.

When the foot of the Gorgio is heard near the tent, a loud "_wa-awk_" from the wary bird (sounding very much like an alarm) at once proclaims the fact; and on approaching, the stranger finds the entire party in all probability asleep.

Sometimes a dog acts as sentinel, but it comes to the same thing.

It is said you cannot catch a weasel asleep: I am tempted to add that you can never find a Gipsy awake--but it means precisely the same thing.
Gipsies are very much attached to their dogs, and in return the dogs are very much attached to their masters--so much so that there are numerous instances, perfectly authenticated, of the faithful animals having been in the habit of ranging the country alone, at great distances from the tent, and obtaining hares, rabbits, or other game, which they carefully and secretly brought by night to their owners as a slight testimonial of their regard and gratitude.

As the dogs have no moral appreciation of the Game Laws, save as manifested in gamekeepers, no one can blame them.
Gipsies almost invariably prefer, as canine manifesters of devotion, lurchers, a kind of dog which of all others can be most easily taught to steal.