straight
way. "If we was long on the road, where'd we get anything at all?"

"I've pennies in my box, an' so have you," Elsie replied impatiently. "A
loaf an' a drop o' milk'll be all we want."

"Oh, yes, it'll do very well on the road. There'll be shops, of course."

"Of course there will. Runnin' away isn't bad. I'd almost like to do it
just for the fun. Lots o' the books teacher's lent me out o' the school
library has got runnin' away in them. Sometimes they get into troubles,
and all sorts o' queer things happen, but it always comes right in the
end. I've noticed that particular."

They were near the village shop now, and as Duncan had no reply to make,
they went on without further conversation till they reached it. "We had
to bring you these instead o' takin' our dinners," Elsie grumbled.

"Dear, dear! poor little bodies!" said the kindly shop-dame,
compassionately. "It's bad for the bairnies to be hungry. I'll fetch you
a bit of cold puddin' with plums enough to put a stop to countin'. You
can eat it as you go along."

She went into her room, and cut two slices.

"There," said Elsie, triumphantly, "I told you anybody 'ud be kind to
children. Mrs. Callam thought it was a shame for us to be hungry, an'
so'd anyone else. I ain't a bit afraid of runnin' away, are you?"

"Afraid?" Duncan replied, with alacrity. "You needn't think I'm afraid."

They reached school in time, and put the borrowed atlas back into its
place unobserved. "I'd like to take it with me," Elsie said to herself,
"only I couldn't give it back, an' then it 'ud be stealin'; but I can't
forget the way."

Duncan got through his tasks in his usual fashion, not brilliantly or
quickly, but pretty accurately. Elsie was in trouble more than once
during the afternoon for inattention, and earned several bad marks, over
which she did not fret.

On their way home Elsie appeared quite to have forgotten her grand
scheme, for she said positively not one word about it. "P'raps she won't
do it after all," thought Duncan, for it was no uncommon thing for Elsie
to utter dreadful-sounding threats, and make boasts which came to
nothing. Duncan grew quite gay and cheerful at this thought, and went
dancing along with all his usual light-heartedness.

But he was quite wrong. Elsie had not tired of her idea, but she was
dreadfully afraid stupid little Duncan might unwittingly betray them,
and so, with the craftiness which soon comes to those who plot, she was
b