Part 11 (1/2)

”I don't know. I never thought of that,” she said. ”But I daresay there's one that goes to not far off from there. And Mick would never catch us then, would he, Tim? We'd go so fast, wouldn't we?”

”They don't go that fast--not ca.n.a.l boats,” replied Tim. ”Still I don't think as Mick'd ever think of looking for us there. That'd be the best of it.”

But just then the rough voice of Mick himself was heard calling to them to come back; for they had wandered to some little distance from the other children, who were quarrelling and shouting near the vans.

”Come back you brats, will ye?” he roared. And the poor little things, like frightened sheep, followed by Tim, hurried back. Pamela shuddered at the sound of their jailor's voice in a way the boy could not bear to see. Mick had never yet actually struck her or her brother so as to hurt them; but Tim well knew that any day it might come to that.

”And a blow from his heavy hand--such a blow as he's given me many a time when he's been tipsy--would go near to killing them tender sort o'

fairy-like critturs,” said the boy to himself, shuddering in his turn.

”He's been extra sober for a good bit, but onst he gets to the fair there's no saying.”

And over and over again, as he was falling asleep, he asked himself what could be done,--how it would be possible to make their escape? Somehow the sight of the ca.n.a.l had roused a little hope in him, though he did not yet see how it could be turned to purpose.

”If we keeps it in sight, I'll see if I can't get near hand it some day and have a look at the boats, if there's any pa.s.sing. Maybe there'd be some coming from where the fair is. And if there was any folk like them as was so good to me that time, they'd be the right sort for to help us.”

And poor Tim had a most beautiful dream that night. He thought he himself and Duke and Pamela were sailing down a lovely stream in a boat s.h.i.+ning like silver, and with sails of white striped with red and blue and gold, like the frock Diana was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g for Pamela. They went so fast it was more like flying than sailing, and all of a sudden they met another boat in which were a lady and gentleman, whom he somehow knew at once were the Grandpapa and Grandmamma of the children's talk, though they were dressed so grandly in crimson robes, and with golden crowns on their heads like kings and queens, that he was frightened to speak to them; for he had nothing on but his ragged clothes. And just as Duke and Pamela were rus.h.i.+ng towards them with joy, and he was turning away ashamed and miserable, wiping his tears with his jacket sleeve, a soft voice called to him not to be afraid but to come forward too. And looking up he saw a figure hovering over him, all white and s.h.i.+ning like an angel. But when he looked at the face--though it was so beautiful--he knew he had seen it before. It was that of his poor mother; he knew at once it was she, though in life he could only remember her wan and worn and often weeping.

”Take courage, my boy--a new life is beginning for you. Have no fear.”

And then, just as it seemed to him that little Pamela turned round, holding out her hand to lead him forward, he woke!

But his dream left a hopeful feeling in his heart. It was still very early morning and all his companions were asleep. Tim got up and very quietly crept out of the sort of one-sided tent, made by drawing a sail-cloth downwards from the top of the van, where he and the other boys slept. He walked a little way over the rough moor, for there was no road, scarcely even a track, and looked down to where, in the clear thin morning light, the ca.n.a.l lay glittering below. Then he gazed over the waste in front. Which way would they be going? Would they skirt the ca.n.a.l more closely or branch off and strike away from it? Tim could not tell. But he resolved to keep his eyes and ears open and to find out.

All that day the gipsy vans jolted along the rough cart-track across the moor. They halted as usual at mid-day--but Tim could not get to speak to the twins at all. And then the caravan started again and went rumbling on till much later than usual, for, as Tim overheard from the gipsies'

conversation, they were eager now to get to Crookford, where the fair was to be, as quickly as possible. When they at last stopped for the night it was almost dark; but the boy crept close up to the entrance of the waggon where he knew the children to be, and hid himself at the side, and, as he expected, the two little figures came timidly forward.

”Diana,” they said softly, and he heard the girl answer not unkindly, but coldly, as was her way.

”Well, what now?”

”Mayn't us come out a little bit, even if it is dark? Us is so tired of being in here all day.”

”And my head's aching,” added Pamela.

Diana hesitated. A small fine rain--or perhaps it was only mist--was beginning to fall; but in spite of that she would probably have let them out a little had not Mick just then come forward.

”They want out a bit,” she said. ”They're tired like with being mewed up in there all day and never a breath of air--no wonder,” and she made as if she were going to lift Pamela down the steps.

”Are you crazed, girl?” said the gipsy, pus.h.i.+ng her back. ”To let them out now in the chill of the evening, and it raining too--to have them catch their deaths of cold just as I've some chance of making up for all the trouble they've cost me. Fool that I was to be bothered with them.

But you're not a-going to spoil all now--that I can tell ye.”

Diana looked at him without speaking. She was not at all in the habit of giving in to him, but she knew that a quarrel terrified the children.

She felt too, as she lifted her dark face to the clouded sky, that it was really raining, and she reflected that there might be truth in what Mick said so rudely.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THEY WANT OUT A BIT,” SHE SAID. ”THEY'RE TIRED LIKE WITH BEING MEWED UP IN THERE ALL DAY AND NEVER A BREATH OF AIR--NO WONDER.”--p. 132.]

”I think it is too cold and damp for you,” she said turning to the door where the two little white faces were looking out piteously. ”Never mind,” she added in a lower tone, ”I'll come back in a minute, and we'll open the window to let some air in, and then I'll sing you to sleep.”

Tim could scarcely believe his ears to hear the rough harsh Diana speaking so gently.