"He can't be running after us, I don't fink," said Pamela, drawing a
deep breath.
"No," said Duke, but then he looked round disconsolately. "What can us
do?" he said. "Tim will never know to find us here."
"Tim is in prison," said Pamela, "It's no use us going back to meet him.
I know he's in prison."
"Then what can us do?" repeated Duke.
"Us must go home and ask Grandpapa to get poor Tim out of prison," said
Pamela.
"But, sister, how can us go home? _I_ don't know the way, do you?"
Pamela looked about her doubtfully.
"P'raps it isn't so very far," she said. "Us had better go on; and when
it's a long way from the policeman, us can ask somebody the road."
There seemed indeed nothing else to do. On they tramped for what seemed
to them an endless way, and still they were in the narrow lane with the
high hedges; so that, after walking for a very long time, they could
have fancied they were in the same place where they started. And as they
met no one they could not ask the way, even had they dared to do so. At
last--just as they were beginning to get very tired--the lane quite
suddenly came out on a short open bit of waste land, across which a
cart-track led to a wide well-kept road. And this, though they had no
idea of it, was actually the coach-road to Sandlingham; for--though, it
must be allowed, more by luck than good management--they had hit upon a
short cut to the highway, which if Tim had known of it would have saved
him all his present troubles!
For a moment or two Duke and Pamela felt cheered by having at last got
out of the weary lane.
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