If she'd got up normally, before she'd covered thirty paces someone from the urchin pack would have joined her. And mother would have moaned, just like yesterday, and the day before.Mother moaned about quite a bit, starting with the clothing she was wearing."It's a nice skirt mother.""It's a gypsy skirt! It's dirty and . . .and vulgar. And how can you go barefoot, darling?""Tante Silvia says I have to look like the others, Mama, in case they come looking for us."Mama had sighed. "Yes. But Dana. They're gypsies. Remember your position. And well, the men have a reputation. You must always stay with me . . .""Mama. It's hot. The cart stinks of solder and Tante Silvia's herbs. And you don't need to worry about the men, I can't go anywhere on my own. Ever. There are always at least three of those girls with me. Always, mother. And anyway, no one will ever know what I wore or did here. We're not going to tell them we hid with the gypsies are we, mother?" She didn't even try to explain that she'd found that the 'gypsies' thought it really funny that her mother thought they were gypsies, just like the other bands that traveled the country.
