In her turn Diana nodded her head.

“And the more we listen to it the plainer we hear it,” added Pamela.

“Us didn’t listen to it when us found that Toby had brokened the bowl,” said Duke gravely.  “At least I didn’t, and it leaves off speaking when people doesn’t listen.”

Diana had long ago heard the story of the beginning of the children’s troubles.

“Listening to it is almost like praying, you see, Diana,” said Pamela.  “And of course when we know all the good comes from God, it’s only sense to pray to Him, isn’t it?”

“I’ll think about it,” said the gipsy quietly.  “Now go to sleep as fast as you can.”

Easier in their innocent minds about their own affairs by a great deal than Diana was for them, the twins quickly followed her advice.  But Diana dared not go to rest herself; in the first place she had a long talk with Tim in a corner where they could not be overheard, and then, finding that Mick had not yet come back, she hung about, terrified of his returning with the Signor, and frightening the poor children, without her being at hand.

“You’d best go to bed, I think,” said Tim.  “I ’spex he’s got to drinking somewhere, and he won’t be seen to-night.”

“I dursn’t,” said Diana.  “He might come any minute, and that man might want to carry them off in their sleep, so as to have no noise about it.”

“But how could you stop him?” asked Tim, his merry face growing very sober.

“I’d do my best, and you must be ready, you know,” she said.

“He’d be in a nice taking if he didn’t find the Signor, or if he wanted to back out of it,” said Tim.

“Not much fear of that,” said Diana.  “The Signor’s too sharp; he’ll soon see he couldn’t get such a pretty pair once in twenty years.  He’s a man I shudder at; once he wanted me to join his show, but, bad and cruel as Mick is, I’d rather have to do with him.  But hush, Tim, there they are!  I hear Mick’s voice swearing—­they’re coming this way.  Run you off and hide yourself, but try to creep up to the van where the children are when they’re gone, and I’ll tell you what has to be done.”

Tim disappeared with marvellous quickness.  Diana rose to her feet and went forward a little, with a light in her hand, to meet her brother.  He was accompanied, as she expected, by the Signor, and she saw in a moment that Mick was more than half drunk, and in a humour which might become dangerous at any moment.

“He’s made him drunk,” she said to herself, “thinking he’ll drive a better bargain.  He’d better have let him alone.”

The Signor was a very small, dark, fat man—­dressed, as he considered, “quite like a gentleman.”  He had bright, beady, twinkling eyes, and a way of smiling and grinning as if he did not think nature had made him enough like a monkey already, in which I do not think any one would have agreed with him!