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An' I shall send your livin'-waggin away, reia; yis, I shall send it arter you, Hal, and your two beautiful gries; an' I shall tell my daddy as never conterdicks his chavi in nothink, 'cos she's took the seein' eye from Shuri Lovell I shall tell my dear daddy as no Gorgio and no Gorgie, no lad an' no wench as ever wur bred o' Gorgio blood an' bones, mustn't never live with our breed no more.
That's what my mammy used to say. But there wur one as could, and did, master her own dukkeripen Shuri Lovell's little Sinfi. 'You have mastered your dukkeripen, Sinfi? 'Yes, I've mastered mine, she said, with the same look of triumph on her face 'I swore I'd master my dukkeripen, brother, an' I done it.
I now wrote another letter to Winifred, and after a long delay, got a reply, but it consisted mainly of descriptions of the way in which she paddled in the Welsh brooks and of lessons in the shawl-dance which she was taking from Shuri Lovell, the mother of her Gypsy friend. So vividly did she describe these lessons that her pictures haunted me.
At that time it was far off the beaten track and very few foreigners had sought it out since 1854, when Commodore Perry negotiated a treaty with its king in the picturesque old Shuri Palace. Only a few months before I arrived, Langdon Warner had visited it on a collecting trip and the natives had not yet ceased to talk about the strange foreigner who gave them new baskets for old ones.
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