f my own
white gown, but she's sewing rows of red and blue and gold round it. And
she says if Duke is good she's going to make him a red jacket. Isn't it
kind of her? Do you know, Tim," she went on in a lower tone, "us has
been thinking that perhaps they're meaning to take us home soon, and
that they want us to look very nice. Do you think it's that, Tim? I'm
sure Grandpapa and Grandmamma would be so pleased they'd give them lots
of money if they took us back."

"I'm afeared it's not taking you home they're thinking of, missie," said
Tim grimly.

"Then why don't you help us to run away, Tim?" said Duke impatiently.
"I've asked you and asked you. I'm sure us might run away _now_--there's
nobody looking after us."

"And where would we run to?" said Tim. "There's not a mortal house nor a
tree even to be seen. Run away, indeed! We'd be cotched--cotched afore
we'd run half a mile. And yet it's the very first time you've bin let
run about a little. I'm ready enough to run away, but no good running
away to be cotched again--it 'ud be worser nor ever."

"Then is us never to run away? Is us never to see Grandpapa, and
Grandmamma, and Dymock, and Biddy, and Nurse, and Toby--oh, dear
Toby!--and the garden, and the nursery, and our little beds, again?"
said both children, speaking together and helping each other with the
list of their lost blessings, and in the end bursting into tears.

Tim looked at them ruefully.

"Don't 'ee now, don't 'ee, master and missy," he said anxiously.
"They'll see you've been crying, and they'll not let you out any more."

Duke and Pamela tried to choke down their sobs.

"Will you try to help us to run away, then, if us is very good--Tim,
dear Tim, oh do," they said piteously. And Tim tried to soothe them with
kind words and promises to do his best.

Poor fellow, he was only too ready to run away for his own sake as well
as theirs. The feelings which had been stirred and reawakened by the
children's companionship had not slumbered again; on the contrary, they
seemed to gain strength every day. Every day he felt more and more
loathing for his present life; every night when he tumbled into the
ragged heap which was called his bed he said to himself more strongly
that he _must_ get away--he could not bear to think that his mother,
looking down on him from the heaven in which she had taught him to
believe, could see him the dirty careless gipsy boy he had become. It
was wonderful how her words ca