ad them. The
afternoon had worn away into a beautiful evening when the road struck
across a common. On the border of this common, a caravan was drawn up
to rest.

It was not a shabby, dingy cart, but a smart little house upon wheels,
with white dimity curtains festooning the windows, and window-shutters
of green picked out with panels of a staring red. Neither was it a poor
caravan drawn by a single donkey or emaciated horse, for a pair of
horses in pretty good condition were released from the shafts, and
grazing upon the frowzy grass. Neither was it a gypsy caravan, for at
the open door (graced with a bright brass knocker) sat a Christian lady,
stout and comfortable to look upon, who wore a large bonnet, trembling
with bows. And that it was not an unprovided or destitute caravan, was
clear from this lady's occupation, which was the very refreshing one of
drinking tea. The tea things were set forth upon a drum covered with a
napkin; and there sat this roving lady, taking her tea and enjoying the
prospect. As she was in the act of setting down her cup, she beheld an
old man and a young child walking slowly by, and glancing at her
proceedings with eyes of modest but hungry admiration.

"Hey!" cried the lady of the caravan, "Yes, to be sure--Who won the
Helter-Skelter Plate?"

"Won what, ma'am?" asked Nell.

"The Helter-Skelter Plate at the races, child. Can't you say who won the
Helter-Skelter Plate when you're asked a question civilly?"

"I don't know, ma'am."

"Don't know!" repeated the lady of the caravan; "Why, you were there. I
saw you with my own eyes."

Nell was not a little alarmed to hear this, supposing that the lady
might be intimately acquainted with the firm of Short and Codlin; but
what followed tended to reassure her.

"And very sorry I was," said the lady of the caravan, "to see you in
company with a Punch--a low practical, wulgar wretch, that people should
scorn to look at."

"I was not there by choice," rejoined the child; "we didn't know our
way, and the two men were very kind to us, and let us travel with them.
Do you--do you know them, ma'am?"

"Know 'em, child!" cried the lady of the caravan in a sort of shriek.
"Know them! But you're young and inexperienced, and that's your excuse
for asking sich a question. Do I look as if I know'd them? Does this
caravan look as if it know'd 'em?"

"No, ma'am, no," said the child, fearing that she had committed some
grievous fault, "I beg your pardo