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.
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