part of the day is to come, brother."

Leo wished to lie down and brood over the words of the Crab. The Girl
went away to talk to the cultivator's wife and baby, and the afternoon
ploughing began.

"Help us now," said the Bull. "The tides of the day are running down.
My legs are very stiff. Sing, if you never sang before."

"To a mud>spattered villager?" said Leo.

"He is under the same doom as ourselves. Are you a coward?" said the
Bull.

Leo flushed, and began again with a sore throat and a bad temper.
Little by little he dropped away from the songs of the Children and
made up a song as he went along; and this was a thing he could never
have done had he not met the Crab face to face. He remembered facts
concerning cultivators and bullocks and rice>fields that he had not
particularly noticed before the interview, and he strung them all
together, growing more interested as he sang, and he told the
cultivator much more about himself and his work than the cultivator
knew. The Bull grunted approval as he toiled down the furrows for the
last time that day, and the song ended, leaving the cultivator with a
very good opinion of himself in his aching bones. The Girl came out of
the hut where she had been keeping the children quiet, and talking
woman>talk to the wife, and they all ate the evening meal together.

"Now yours must be a very pleasant life," said the cultivator;
"sitting as you do on a dyke all day and singing just what comes into
your head. Have you been at it long, you two>>gipsies?"

"Ah!" lowed the Bull from his byre. "That's all the thanks you will
ever get from men, brother."

"No. We have only just begun it," said the Girl; "but we are going to
keep to it as long as we live. Are we not, Leo?"

"Yes," said he; and they went away hand in hand.

"You can sing beautifully, Leo," said she, as a wife will to her
husband.

"What were you doing?" said he.

"I was talking to the mother and the babies," she said. "You would not
understand the little things that make us women laugh."

"And>>and I am to go on with this>>this gipsy work?" said Leo.

"Yes, dear, and I will help you."

There is no written record of the life of Leo and of the Girl, so we
cannot tell how Leo took to his new employment which he detested. We
are only sure that the Girl loved him when and wherever he sang; even
when, after the song was done, she went round with the equivalent of a
tambourine and collected the pence for the daily bread. There were
times, too, when it was Leo's very hard task to console the Girl for
the indignity of horrible