stories were probably made up for the
occasion--Dorothy at fourteen did not mean to be frightened, as if she
were seven--but, all the same, the old creepy horror which she used to
feel came back and haunted her. The road was so very lonely, and it was
growing dark so fast! Suppose a gipsy caravan appeared round the next
corner, and a dark, hawk-visaged woman were to demand her hat and
jacket! What would she do? The supposition made her shiver. She walked
on steadily all the same, her footsteps sounding loud in her ears.

Then she stopped, for in front of her she heard the unmistakable creak
of a cart. Was it a band of gipsies or travelling pedlars? At school, in
daylight, she would have mocked at herself for having any fears at all,
but now she found her heart was beating and throbbing in the most absurd
and uncomfortable fashion. "I'm in a horrid scare," she thought. "I
daren't meet whatever's coming, and that's the fact. I'm going to hide
till it's passed."

There was a gate not very far away; she managed to open it, and crept
into a field, concealing herself well behind the hedge. The creaking
came nearer and nearer. Through a hole Dorothy could see down into the
roadway. By a curious coincidence, it was a caravan that was passing
slowly in the direction of Latchworth; the outside was hung with
baskets, and there was a little black chimney that poured out a cloud of
smoke. Two thin, tired horses paced wearily along, urged by an
occasional prod with a stick from a rough-looking boy. A swinging
lantern under the body of the vehicle revealed a couple of dogs, and in
the rear slouched three men and a slipshod, untidy woman, who twisted up
her straggling hair as she went. Hidden behind the hedge, Dorothy
watched them go by.

"I'm most thankful I came up here and didn't meet them," she thought.
"They look a disreputable set. I believe they'd have stolen anything
they could lay hands on if they'd realized I was alone. I expect I've
had quite an escape. I wonder if that's the whole of the tribe, or if
there are any more caravans?"

The idea of more was discomfiting, yet it was possible that this was
only the first of a travelling company. Dorothy remembered that there
were some wakes at Coleminster about this time every year, which would
no doubt attract van-dwellers from many parts of the country. To meet a
succession of these undesirables along the road would be anything but
pleasant. Yet what could she do? She certain