“Home, do you mean, Diana?” they said.  “Home to our own dear Grandpapa and Grandmamma?”

“And Toby,” added Duke.

“And Toby,” echoed Pam.

Diana clasped them tight; her eyes, that for many a day had not shed a tear, were running over.

“Yes, home, my blessed darlings,” she said.

“But you’ll come with us” was the next idea.  “You’ve been so good to us.  Grandpapa’d never put you in prison, Diana.”

They sat up now and looked at her anxiously.

“Perhaps not,” she said, shaking her head nevertheless.  “But I dursn’t go with you.  I must stay here to stop them going the right way after you for one thing.  And then—­you didn’t know it, but, bad as he is, Mick’s my brother.  I dursn’t get him into trouble.”

“Mick’s your bruvver!” repeated Pam; “the same as bruvver is to me.  And he speaks so naughty to you, Diana.  I don’t fink he can be your bruvver.  I fink you’ve made a mistake.  Oh do come wif us, dear Diana.  You and Tim.”

“Yes for Tim, it’d be the best thing he could do, and the best chance for you to get safe home.  But for me,” and again Diana shook her head.  “Let alone Mick, I’m only a poor wild gipsy girl,” she said.  “I couldn’t take to your pretty quiet ways; no, it’d kill me.  It’s in the gipsy blood—­we must for ever be on the go.  It wasn’t so bad long ago when father and mother was alive.  Father was honest—­he was a gentleman gipsy, he was.  But Mick’s another sort.  If I could get away from him I would—­but not so as to get him into trouble.  I’ll try some day to get among a better lot.  There’s bad and good among us, though you mightn’t believe it.  But here am I wasting time talking of myself, and I want to tell you all I’m thinking of.  First, do you know the name of the village or town nearest where you live?”

“Sandle’ham,” said the children.

“But is that near your home?” pursued Diana.  The twins shook their heads.  They didn’t know.

“Us was there once,” said Duke.  “But it was a long time ago.  It seemed a very far way.”

“And is there no village nearer?”

“Yes, of course,” said Pamela.  “There’s where Barbara Twiss and the butcher Live, and where the church is.”

“And what’s it called?”

“What’s it called?” repeated the children.  “Why, it’s just called the village.  It isn’t called anything else.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Diana.  “And it was all new country thereabouts to me.  Well, there’s nothing for it but to make for Sandle’ham, and once there Tim must go to the police.”

At this dreadful word the children set up a shriek, but Diana quickly stopped them.