"Who is Kink?" Mrs. Mordan asked.

"Our gardener," said Hester, "but he drives the caravan for us;" and
gradually she told the whole Slowcoach story.

By this time they were at Ashton, and, after giving instructions about
looking after the ponies,--sending for a veterinary surgeon and so
forth,--Mrs. Mordan showed Kink the way to Aunt May's house, which they
reached just before two.

Aunt May was standing by the gate? with five black spaniels about her,
looking anxiously down the road--a tall lady with grey hair and top-boots,
and a little whip in her hand.

"No," she said, as Kink stopped at the gate, "I don't want any chairs or
kettles mended, or, indeed, anything from you at all."

Kink, however, said nothing, but went to the back of the caravan and helped
Mrs. Mordan and Patricia down.

"My precious Lina!" exclaimed Aunt May, when she saw them. "Whatever has
happened?"

"I'll tell you about it indoors," said Mrs. Mordan. "These kind people are
going to stop here for lunch, if you've got enough."

"Of course there's enough," said Aunt May; "but I thought you were gipsies,
or tinkers, or something objectionable. You're not a tinker, are you?" she
said to Gregory.