And no wonder--the waggon was stuffed with bundles and
packages of all shapes and sizes; on the sides hung dirty coats and
cloaks belonging to some of the tribe, and the only pleasant object to
be seen was a heap of nice clean-looking baskets and brooms, which had
been brought in here, as the basket-cart was already filled to
overflowing. For the gipsies expected to do a good trade in these things
at the Crookford fair.
"I wish Diana would give us one of these nice baskets to take home--a
present to Grandmamma," continued Pamela, as her glance fell upon them.
"You're very silly, sister," said Duke. "Don't you understand that us is
going to _run away_, like Tim has always been wanting. And Diana's going
to help us to run away. Mick mustn't know and nobody, not till us is too
far for them to catch us. I think it's a great pity Diana told you;
you're too little to understand."
"I'm as big as you, bruvver, and my birfday's the same. You're very
unkind to say I'm littler than you, and I _do_ understand."
She spoke indignantly, but the last words ended in tears. Poor little
people!--life in a gipsy caravan was not the sort of thing to improve
their tempers. But the dispute was soon followed by a reconciliation,
and then they decided it was better not to talk any more about what
Diana had told them, but to "make plans" inside their heads about how
nice it would be to go home again; how they would knock at the door so
softly, and creep into the parlour where Grandmamma would be sitting by
the fire with Toby at her feet, and Grandpapa at the table with the
newspaper; and _how_ they would hug them both! At which point you will
see the plan making was no longer confined to the "inside of their
heads.
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