in tell her _everyfing_. Even if she is raver angry, wouldn't it be
better, bruvver? I'm almost sure my little voice inside is telling me
so," and Pamela stood for a moment with a look of intent listening on
her face. "Yes, I'm sure that's what it's trying to say. Can you hear
yours, bruvver?"

Duke looked undecided.

"I can't listen just now, sister," he replied. "I'm full of thinking how
nice it would be to buy a bowl just the same, and take it in and give it
to poor Biddy, and then she wouldn't be scolded. I don't think I'd mind
telling Grandmamma once us had got the bowl. She'd be so pleased to have
one the same."

"_I_ fink she'd be most pleased for us to tell her everyfing,"
maintained Pamela stoutly.

And Duke, always impressed by her opinion, wavered, and no doubt he
would have wavered back into the right way, had not, just at that
moment, a low whistle been heard some way to the left down the lane;
and, looking in the direction from whence it came, the little boy and
girl caught sight of a head quickly poked out and as quickly drawn back
again into the shade of the hedge. But not too quickly for them to have
recognised the sharp black eyes and rough black hair of the gipsy
pedlar.

Without replying to Pamela Duke darted off, and, though much against her
will, the little girl felt she could not but follow him. Before they had
quite reached the spot the head was poked out again.