"But, Tim," said Pamela, almost in a whisper "you don't mean that Mick's
going to steal us away for always."

"No, no," said the boy, "he only wants to get some money for you. But
we'll see in a bit. Just you stay there quiet till he comes, and don't
you say you've seen me. I'll soon see you again; but he mustn't find me
here."

They began to cry again when he left them, but he had not gone too soon;
for in less than five minutes--by which time Tim had hidden himself some
little way off--they heard the voice of the gipsy urging on the donkey
over the rough ground. He seemed in a very bad temper, and Duke and
Pamela shivered with fear.

"Oh I wish us had runned away," whispered Pamela, though, when she tried
to lift herself up and found she could not put the wounded foot to the
ground even so as to hobble, she felt that to escape would have been
impossible. The gipsy scowled at them, but said nothing as he lifted
first the boy and then the girl on to the donkey.

"There, now," he said, with a slight return to his falsely-smooth tones,
"you'll be pleased at last, I should hope. To think of all the trouble
we've had, the missus and me, a-unpacking of all the pots and crocks for
you to ride on the donkey."

"And are you going to take us straight home, then?" said Pamela, whose
spirits had begun to revive.

"What, without the bowl?" exclaimed Mick, in pretended surprise, "when