“But master and missy,” he explained at last when they would let him speak, “we can’t.  Don’t you see Mick knows exactly where he left yer, and he’d be after us in a minute.  There’s nowhere near here where we could hide but what he’d find us.  You’d only get me a beating, that ’ud be all about it.  No, listen to me.  P’raps Mick means to take yer home straight away, but if he doesn’t we must wait a bit till I can find out what he’s after.  He’s a deep one is Mick.”

“Couldn’t you run home quick to tell Grandpapa and Grandmamma where us is?” said Duke.  “Grandpapa, and the coachman, and Dymock, and the gardener—­they’d all come to fetch us.”

“I dursn’t,” said Tim.  “Not yet; Mick’s a deep one.  If he thought I’d run off to tell he’d——­”

“What would he do?” they asked breathlessly.

“He’d hide away somehow.  ’Twouldn’t be so easy to find him.  He’ll be back in a moment too—­I couldn’t get off before he’d be after me.  No; we must wait a bit till I see what he’s after.”

“Why haven’t you runned away before?” asked Pamela.  “If he’s not your father, and if you don’t like him.”

“Nowhere to run to,” said Tim simply.  “It’s not so bad for me.  I’m used to it.  It’s not like you, master and missy.  Diana and me, when you was up at the top o’ the wall, we’d ha’ done anything to stop you coming down.”

“But, Tim,” said Pamela, almost in a whisper “you don’t mean that Mick’s going to steal us away for always.”

“No, no,” said the boy, “he only wants to get some money for you.  But we’ll see in a bit.  Just you stay there quiet till he comes, and don’t you say you’ve seen me.  I’ll soon see you again; but he mustn’t find me here.”

They began to cry again when he left them, but he had not gone too soon; for in less than five minutes—­by which time Tim had hidden himself some little way off—­they heard the voice of the gipsy urging on the donkey over the rough ground.  He seemed in a very bad temper, and Duke and Pamela shivered with fear.

“Oh I wish us had runned away,” whispered Pamela, though, when she tried to lift herself up and found she could not put the wounded foot to the ground even so as to hobble, she felt that to escape would have been impossible.  The gipsy scowled at them, but said nothing as he lifted first the boy and then the girl on to the donkey.

“There, now,” he said, with a slight return to his falsely-smooth tones, “you’ll be pleased at last, I should hope.  To think of all the trouble we’ve had, the missus and me, a-unpacking of all the pots and crocks for you to ride on the donkey.”

“And are you going to take us straight home, then?” said Pamela, whose spirits had begun to revive.

“What, without the bowl?” exclaimed Mick, in pretended surprise, “when there’s such a lot all set out on the grass in a row for you to see.”

He spoke so naturally that both the children were deceived for the moment.  Perhaps after all he was not so bad—­even Tim had said perhaps he was going to take them home!  They looked up at him doubtfully.