Duke hesitated. He was not quite generous enough to own that his gloomy
prophecies had been a good deal the result of his being tired and cross
and contradictory. In his heart he had no misgiving such as he had
expressed to Pamela--he had no idea that what he had said might really
have been true.
"You _don't_ fink so, bruvver?" persisted Pam.
"I daresay if us goes back very soon it'll make them better even if they
are very ill. I think us had better put that in our prayers too--for us
to get back to them so quick that there won't be time for them to get
very ill. I wouldn't mind them being just a _little_ ill, would you,
sister? It'd be so nice to see them getting better."
"I'd _rather_ they wasn't ill at all," said Pamela, "but I daresay
God'll understand. Oh I _wish_ it was to-morrow! don't you, bruvver?"
"Hush," said Duke. "Diana said us mustn't talk loud--and see, sister,
they're going to put the horse in and go on again. Oh how tired I am of
going along shaking like this all day! And don't you remember, sister,
when us was little us used to think it would be _so_ nice to live in a
cart like a house, like this?"
"Us never thought how _nugly_ it would be inside," said Pamela, glancing
round the little square space in which they were with great
dissatisfaction.
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