ul--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 canal lay glittering below. Then he gazed over the
waste in front. Which way would they be going? Would they skirt the
canal 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, pushing her back. "To let them
out now in the chill of the eveni