e home."

So they peeped out, and finding on the right hand only lonely white
road, and nothing but lonely white road on the left, they took courage,
and the road, Anthea carrying the sleeping Lamb.

Adventures dogged their footsteps. A boy with a bundle of faggots on his
back dropped his bundle by the roadside and asked to look at the Baby,
and then offered to carry him; but Anthea was not to be caught that way
twice. They all walked on, but the boy followed, and Cyril and Robert
couldn't make him go away till they had more than once invited him to
smell their fists. Afterwards a little girl in a blue-and-white checked
pinafore actually followed them for a quarter of a mile crying for "the
precious Baby," and then she was only got rid of by threats of tying her
to a tree in the wood with all their pocket handkerchiefs. "So that
bears can come and eat you as soon as it gets dark," said Cyril
severely. Then she went off crying. It presently seemed wise, to the
brothers and sisters of the Baby who was wanted by everyone, to hide in
the hedge whenever they saw anyone coming, and thus they managed to
prevent the Lamb from arousing the inconvenient affection of a milkman,
a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart with a paraffin barrel at
the back of it. They were nearly home when the worst thing of all
happened. Turning a corner suddenly they came upon two vans, a tent, and
a company of gipsies encamped by the side of the road. The vans were
hung all round with wicker chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and
feather brushes. A lot of ragged children were industriously making
dust-pies in the road, two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women
were doing the family washing in an old red watering-can with the top
broken off.

In a moment every gipsy, men, women, and children, surrounded Anthea and
the Baby.

"Let me hold him, little lady," said one of the gipsy women, who had a
mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; "I won't hurt a hair of
his head, the little picture!"

"I'd rather not," said Anthea.

"Let _me_ have him," said the other woman, whose face was also of the
hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. "I've nineteen
of my own, so I have"--

"No," said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly choked
her.

Then one of the men pushed forward.

"Swelp me if it ain't!" he cried, "my own long-lost cheild! Have he a
strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my ow