n, got altogether too big; he suddenly broke off and burst
out sobbing. It was too much--not only to have to leave the dear little
master and missy, but to have to say good-bye to all his beautiful plans
and hopes--of learning to be a good and respectable boy--of leading a
settled and decent life such as mother--"poor mother"--could look down
upon with pleasure from her home up there somewhere near the sun, in the
heaven about which her child knew so little, but in which he still most
fervently believed.

"I'm a great fool," he sobbed, "but I did--I did want to be a good lad,
and to give up gipsying."

Barbara's heart by this time was completely melted, and Duke's and Pam's
tears were flowing.

"Tim, dear Tim, you must come with us," they said. "Oh, Barbara, do tell
him he's to come. Why, even Toby sees how good Tim is; he's not barking
a bit, and he's sniffing at him to show he's a friend."

And Toby, hearing his own name, looked up in the old woman's face as if
he too were pleading poor Tim's cause. She hesitated no longer.

"Come with us my poor boy," she said, "it'll go hard if we can't find a
place for you somewheres. And the General and the old lady is good and
kind as can be. Don't ye be a-feared, but come with us. You must help me
to get master and missy home, for it's a good bit we have to get over,
you know."

So Tim dried his eyes, and his hopes revived. And this time the little
cavalcade set out in good earnest to make the best of their way to
Brigslade, with no lookings back towards Monkhaven; for, indeed, their
greatest wish was to leave it as quickly as possible far behind them.
They were a good way off fortunately before clever Superintendent Boyds
and his assistants found out that their bird was flown, and when they
did find it out they went after him in the wrong direction; and it was
not till three days after the children had been safe at home that formal
information, which doubtless _would_ have been very cheering to poor
Grandpapa, came to him that the police at Monkhaven were believed to be
on the track!

How can I describe to you that coming home? If I could take you back
with me some thirty years or so and let you hear it as I did
then--direct from the lips of a very old lady and gentleman, who still
spoke to each other as "brother" and "sister," whose white hair was of
the soft silvery kind which one sees at a glance was _once_ flaxen--oh
how much more interesting it would be, and how mu