A door happened to be open near her, and she walked right in, without a second thought, as was the fashion in which Gypsy usually did things.

A pair of steep stairs led up from the bit of an entry, and a quantity of children, whose faces and hands were decidedly the worse for wear, were playing on them.
"How do you do ?" said Gypsy.

The children stared.
"Who lives here ?" asked Gypsy, again.

The children put their fingers in their mouths.
"Who is that groaning so ?" persisted Gypsy, repressing a strong desire to box their ears.

The children crawled a little further up-stairs, and peered at her from between their locks of shaggy hair, as if they considered her a species of burglar.