be coming in pursuit.

"They'd 'a been after us by now if they'd been coming," said Peter. "A
horse'd have overtook us long afore this, and not going so very fast
nayther."

The children had not enjoyed so much liberty for many weary days, and
their merry laughter was heard all over the boat, as they played
hide-and-seek with Tim, or paddled their hands in the clear water,
leaning over the sides of the boat. For they were now quite out in the
country, and the canal bore no traces of the dirt of the town. It was a
very pretty bit of country too through which they were passing; and
though the little brother and sister were too young to have admired or
even noticed a beautiful landscape of large extent, they were delighted
with the meadows dotted over with daisies and buttercups, and the woods
in whose recesses primroses and violets were to be seen, through which
they glided.

[Illustration: "I DO FINK WHEN US IS QUITE BIG AND CAN DO AS US LIKES,
US MUST HAVE A BOAT LIKE THIS, AND ALWAYS GO SAILING ALONG."--p. 195.]

"I do fink when us is quite big and can do as us likes, us must have a
boat like this, and always go sailing along," said Pamela, when,
half-tired with her play, she sat down beside the baby and its mother.

"But it isn't always summer, or beautiful bright weather like this,
missy," said the young woman. "It's not such a pleasant life in winter
or even in wet weather. Last week even it was sadly cold. I hardly durst
let baby put her nose out of the cabin."

"Then us'd only sail in the boat in fine weather," said Pamela
philosophically, to which of course there was nothing to be said.

The next two days passed much in the same way. The sunshine fortunately
continued, and the children saw no reason to change their opinion of the
charms of canal life, especially as now and then Peter landed them on
the banks for a good run in the fields. And through all was the
delightful feeling that they were "going home."

CHAPTER XI.

A SAD DILEMMA.

"Like children that have lost their way
And know their names, but nothing more."
_Phoebe._

It was the last night on the canal. Early the next morning they would be
at Monkhaven. The children were fast asleep; so were Peter and his wife
and baby. Only Tim was awake. He had asked to stay on deck, as he was
quite warm with a rug which Mrs. Peter lent him, and the cabin was full
enough. It was a lovely night, and the boy