Perhaps in after-days, when I was starving in London, I may have begged of my father without knowing it; and he may have thrown his daughter a penny to get rid of her, without knowing it either! What is there sacred in the relations between father and child, when they are such relations as these?
Even the flowers of the field cannot grow without light and air to help them! How is a child's love to grow, with nothing to help it?
"My small savings would have been soon exhausted, even if I had been old enough and strong enough to protect them myself.

As things were, my few shillings were taken from me by gypsies.

I had no reason to complain.
They gave me food and the shelter of their tents, and they made me of use to them in various ways.

After a while hard times came to the gypsies, as they had come to the strolling players.

Some of them were imprisoned; the rest were dispersed.