t, except when they came into Dickie's stories, who could not bear
them, and always knew when they were coming. At the least hint of their
approach, however artfully contrived, she would abruptly leave her seat
and run away, saying, "No more, no more." Ambrose, however, was deeply
impressed both by the poem and the moral, and felt quite as guilty as
Eugene Aram.

True, it was only a crock he had buried, and as far as he knew he had
not robbed anyone of the gold, except the ancient Romans, who were all
dead long ago. But he began to be troubled with doubts as to whether
the coins were really so old. David had said they looked bright and
new; perhaps they belonged to someone alive now, who had buried them in
Rumborough Camp for safety. If this were so, he and David were robbers!
There was no other name for them.

This was such a new and terrible idea that he felt unable to keep it
entirely to himself. He must have someone's opinion on the matter; and
after some thought he resolved to try if Pennie could be of any service.
"If I say, `Suppose So-and-so did so-and-so,'" he said to himself, "she
won't know it really happened, and I shall hear what she thinks. I'll
do it to-morrow on the way to Cheddington Fair."

For the time for Cheddington Fair had come round again, and as it was
the only entertainment of any kind that happened near Easney, it was
looked forward to for weeks beforehand, and remembered for weeks
afterwards. It was indeed an occasion of importance to all the
country-side, and was considered the best fair held for many miles
round. The first day was given up to the buying and selling of cattle,
and after that came two days of what was called the "pleasure fair,"
when all the booths and shows were open, and many wonderful sights were
to be seen.

There was a wild-beast show of unusual size, a splendid circus, numbers
of conjurers, places where you might fire off a rifle for a penny,
merry-go-rounds where you might choose the colour of your horse, Aunt
Sallys where you could win a cocoa-nut if you were skilful--no end to
the attractions, no limit to the brilliancy and bustle of the scene.
The gingerbread to be bought at Cheddington Fair had a peculiar
excellence of its own, whether in the form of gilded kings and queens,
brandy-snap, or cakes; everything else tasted tame and flat after it, as
indeed did most of the events of daily life for some days following
these exciting events.

The children