“So here’s your handsome sister, my friend Mick,” he said, as he caught sight of Diana—­“handsomer than ever.  And you were coming to meet us, were you—­very amiable I’m sure.”

Mick, whose eyes were dazzled by the light, and who was too stupid to take in things quickly, frowned savagely when he saw the girl standing quietly before him.

“What are you waiting there for?” he said, with some ugly words.  “There’s no need of you.  Get out of the way.  I know where to find the childer.  The Signor and I can manage our own affairs.”

“Can you?” said Diana contemptuously.  “Well, good-night, then.  You’ll waken them up and frighten them so that they’ll scream for the whole fair to hear them.  And how the Signor means to get them away quietly if they do so I can’t say.  There’d maybe be some awkward questions to answer as to how they came among us at all, if some of the people about should be honest, decent folk.  And there are fools of that kind where you’d little look for them sometimes.  However, it’s no business of mine, as you say.  Good-night,” and she turned away.

The Signor turned to Mick with a very evil look in his face.

“Fool that you are,” he muttered, but Mick only stared at him stupidly.  The Signor caught his arm and shook him.  “Are you going to let her go off?” he said.  “You told me yourself she had looked after the brats and could do anything with them, and now you go and set her back up!  She’s fit to rouse the place out of spite, she is.  And I can tell you I’m not going to get myself into trouble about these children you’ve made such a fuss about.  I’ve not seen them yet, and rather than risk anything I’ll be off,” and he, in turn, seemed as if he were going off.

This roused Mick.

“Stay, stay—­wait a bit,” he said eagerly, “Diana,” he called,—­and as Diana was in reality only waiting behind a shed she soon appeared again,—­“I were only joking.  Of course it’s for you to show the Signor the pretty dears—­such care as she’s had of them, so bright and merry as she’s taught them to be, you wouldn’t believe,” he went on in a half whine.  “It’ll be a sore trouble to her to part with them—­you’ll have to think o’ that, Signor.  I’ve promised Diana we’d act handsome by her.”

“Of course, of course,” said the other, with a sneer.  “Sure to be handsome doings where you and me’s concerned, friend Mick.  But where are the creatures?  You’re not playing me a trick after all, are you?” he went on, looking round as if he expected to see the children start up from the earth or drop down from the sky.

“This way,” said Diana, more civilly than she had yet spoken, “follow me if you please—­they’re close by.”

In another minute she was standing on the steps of the van with the key in the lock.  Then suddenly she turned and faced the Signor.

“They’re asleep,” she said.  “I kept them up and awake a long time, but I hadn’t thought you’d be so late.  I can wake them up if you like, and if they saw me there they wouldn’t cry.  But they’d be half asleep—­there’d be no getting them to show off to-night.  But of course it’s as the Signor chooses.”