"
"And Duke," added Pamela half timidly. "Us must tell all about the
broken bowl. And us must always tell everything like that to
Grandmamma."
"Yes," said Duke.
"I fink my voice that Grandmamma told us about _did_ tell me to tell,"
pursued the little girl thoughtfully. "Didn't yours, bruvver?"
"I sometimes think it did," said Duke with unusual humility. "I think it
must have been that I wouldn't listen. You would have listened, sister.
It was much more my fault than yours. I shall tell _that_."
"No, no, it was bof our faults," said Pamela. "But I fink Grandpapa and
Grandmamma will be so very pleased to have us that they won't care whose
fault it was."
And then the two little creatures leant their heads each on the other's,
and tried to keep themselves steady against the rough jolting, till by
degrees--and it was the best thing they could have done--they both fell
asleep, and were sleeping as peacefully as in their own white cots at
home when, later in the afternoon, Diana got into the waggon again, and,
rolling up an old shawl, carefully laid it as a pillow under the two
fair heads. It was getting dusk by now, and the gipsies all disappeared
into the vans, for they began to drive too quickly for it to be possible
for them to keep up by walking alongside.
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