When they awoke the next morning the gipsies had gone--nothing remained of them but the burnt circle on the ground which any encampment makes and a little rubbish; but at the mouth of the boys' tent lay a bundle of sticks and two rabbits.
Kink looked at the rabbits with a narrow eye."Better hurry up and get them eaten," he said, "or one of those policemen that Master Campbell is so fond of may be asking awkward questions.And it wouldn't be a bad thing," Kink added, "to have a good look round and see if there's anything missing.""Oh, Kink," said Janet, "how horrid you are to be so suspicious! And after all their gratitude, too!""Yes," said Kink; "but gipsies is gipsies.They were gipsies before they were grateful, and I reckon they'll be gipsies after."But in spite of his examination he found no signs of any theft.
They were away soon after breakfast, which seemed a little flat at first after the excitement of last night.But they soon lost that feeling in hunger.It was a very windy day, with showers now and then; but it was bracing too, especially on this very high road, hundreds of feet above the sea-level.
Robert pointed out how straight it was, and told them it was made by the Romans eighteen hundred years ago, and it ran right through Cirencester (which they called Corinium) to Speen (which they called Spinae).Its name was then Ermin Street.And it amused the children to imagine they too were Romans clanking along this fine highway.
It was after lunch that they came upon an old woman--sitting beside the road just beyond Tredington.Long before they reached her they heard her moaning and groaning.
"What is it?" Janet asked.
The old woman moaned and groaned.
"Are you ill?" Janet asked.
The old woman groaned and moaned.
"Kinky," said Janet, "come and see if we can help her."Kink murmured to himself and came to her.
"What's up, missis?" he asked.
"It's my poor heart," said the old woman with an Irish brogue."I'm very queer.It's near death I am.For the love of Heaven give me a ride in the beautiful caravan.""Where do you want to go?" Kink growled at her.
"To Alverminster," she said."To see my daughter.She lives there.She's been married these five years to a carpenter, and she's just had another baby, bless it's wee face! But me poor heart's that bad I can't go another step."Kink drew Janet aside."She's an old humbug," he said, "and she smells of gin.Better let her be.""Oh, Kinky," said Janet, "how can we! The poor old thing, and her daughter waiting to see her!""Daughter!" Kink snorted."She's got no daughter.She's trying it on.""How horrid you are!" Janet said."I mean to give her a lift, anyway.""It's against my advice," said Kink."Anyway, promise me you won't give her any money.""Very well," said Janet, and she invited the old woman to sit on a chair at the back of the caravan.
"The saints protect you for your kindness!" said the old woman, getting to her feet and making her way up the steps with more ease than Janet had dared to expect."The saints protect you all--all except that suspicious ould gossoon wid the whip," she added, glowering at Kink, who was by no means backward in glowering at her in reply.
"If you had such a thing as a drop of spirits," said the old woman to Janet, who had taken a seat beside her, "I should be all right.The doctor says that there's nothing like a little stimulant for such flutterings and spasms as worry me.""I'm afraid we haven't," said Janet; "but I could make you a cup of tea.""There's a darlin'," said the old woman."It's not so helpful as spirits, but there's comfort in it too."Her sharp little eyes followed Janet as she moved about and brought together all the tea requisites.
"You're a handy young lady," she said, "and may Heaven send you a fine husband when the time comes! Ah, it's myself as a girl you remind me of, with your quick, pretty ways.""Where did you live when you were a girl?" Janet asked.
"In a little village called Kilbeggy," said the old woman."My father was a farmer there until the trouble came upon him.But it's little enough happiness we had after that, and niver a piece of meat passed our lips for years.Nothing but potatoes and bread.And you're eating meat twice a day, I'm thinking, all of you.Ah, it's a strange world, and a very gay one when you're rich.I was rich once, me darlin'.""Were you?" Janet asked in surprise.
"Oh, yes," said the old woman, "I was rich once.Me husband was a licensed victualler in Harrow, and we kept our own wagonette.Many's the time I've driven it meself into London, to a stable in the Edgeware Road, where Ileft it to do me shopping.It was an elegant carriage, and a white horse not so unlike your own, only smaller."Janet handed her the tea.
"Thank you, me darlin'," said the old woman."I'm feeling better already.
That's a beautiful locket you're wearing-- it is the very image of one that belonged to me poor little Clara that died."The old woman began to cry.Janet was greatly distressed."I can't help it," said the old woman."Me poor little Clara! I kept it for years and years, and then it was taken from me by my landlady's son, a good-for-nothing blackguard, in lodgings off the Pentonville Road." She sobbed afresh."I've never been happy since," she said.
