“Ah, my beauty,” said the funny little man, and let the python slide between his hands, its coils pulsing powerfully as it went. “You like the music, my beauty?”

“He really loves his snake,” whispered Anne to George. “How can he?”

Alfredo’s wife got up. “It is time to go,” she told the audience. “Alfredo needs his supper. Is it not so, my big bad man?”

Alfredo agreed that it was so. He placed the heavy iron pot over the glowing fire again, and in a few seconds such a glorious smell came from it that all the five children began to sniff expectantly.

“Where’s Timmy?” said George, suddenly. He was nowhere to be seen!

“He crept away with his tail down when he saw the snake,” said Jo. “I saw him go. Timmy, come back! It’s all right! Timmy, Timmy!”

“I’ll call him, thank you,” said George. “He’s my dog. Timmy!”

Timmy came, his tail still down. George fondled him and so did Jo. He licked them both in turn. George tried to drag him away from Jo. She didn’t like Timmy to show affection for the little gypsy girl — but he always did! He loved her.

The supper was lovely. “What is in your pot?” asked Dick, accepting a second helping. “I’ve never tasted such a delicious stew in my life.”

“Chicken, duck, beef, bacon, rabbit, hare, hedgehog, onions, turnips…” began Alfredo’s wife. “I put there everything that comes. It cooks and I stir, it cooks and I stir. Perhaps a partridge goes in one day, and a pheasant the next, and…”

“Hold your tongue, wife,” growled Alfredo, who knew quite well that the farmers round about might well ask questions about some of the things in that stew.

“You tell me to hold my tongue!” cried little Mrs. Alfredo angrily, flourishing a spoon. “You tell me that!”

“Woof,” said Timmy, receiving some nice tasty drops on his nose, and licking them off. “Woof!” He got up and went towards the spoon, hoping for a few more.

“Oh, Aunt Nita, do give Timmy a spoonful out of the stew,” begged Jo, and to Timmy’s great joy he got a big plateful all to himself. He could hardly believe it!

“Thank you very much for a very nice supper,” said Julian, feeling that it really was time to go. He got up and the others followed his example.

“And thank you for fire-eating for us, Alfredo,” said George. “It doesn’t seem to have spoilt your appetite!”

“Poof!” said Alfredo, as if such a thing would never enter his head. “Jo — are you going to stay with us again tonight? You are welcome.”

“I’d just like an old rug, that’s all, Aunt Nita,” said Jo. “I’m going to sleep under George’s caravan.”

“You can sleep on the floor inside, if you like,” said George. But Jo shook her head.

“No. I’ve had enough of sleeping indoors for a bit. I want to sleep out. Under the caravan will be a fine place for me. Gypsies often sleep there when the weather is warm.”