Duke and Pamela looked up, but without clearly understanding what their new host said.  And Tim, who saw that Peter’s queer accent puzzled them, was not sorry.  He did not want them to be frightened; he was frightened enough himself to do for all three, he reflected, and they were so good and biddable he could keep them quiet without rousing their fears.  For, though he could not have explained his own feelings, it somehow went to the boy’s heart to see the two little creatures already looking happier and more peaceful than he had ever seen them!  Why should they not be quite happy?  They were going to Grandpapa and Grandmamma and Toby; they had no longer cruel Mick to fear; they had Tim to take care of them—­only the thought of poor Diana left behind made them a little sad!

“It is so nice here,” repeated Pamela, when Tim’s words had completely reassured her.  “But I’m rather hungry.  Us hadn’t any breakfast, you know, Tim.  Mightn’t us, have some of the bread in the basket.”

“I’ve got some bread and some fresh milk,” said Mrs. Peter.  “I got the milk just before you came; the girl at the ‘Rest’”—­the ‘Rest’ was the little house where the canal boats stopped—­“fetched it early.”

“Oh, us would like some milk,” said the children eagerly.

“Come into the cabin then, and you’ll show me what you have in your basket,” said the young woman; and thus the children were easily persuaded to put themselves in hiding.

The cabin was but one room, though with what in a house would have been called a sort of “lean-to,” large enough to hold a bed.  All was, of course, very tidy, but so much neater and, above all, cleaner than the gipsies’ van that Duke and Pamela thought it delightful.  The boat had been newly repaired and painted, and besides this, Peter’s wife—­though she could neither read nor write and had spent all her life on a canal boat—­was quite a wonder in her love of tidiness and cleanliness.

“I’d like to live here always,” said Pamela, whose spirits rose still higher when she had had some nice fresh milk and bread.

“Not without Grandpapa and Grandmamma,” said Duke reproachfully.

“Oh no, of course not,” said Pamela.  “But there wouldn’t be quite enough room for them in here, would there, Mrs. Peter?”

“I am afraid not,” she replied.  “You see there’s only one bed.  But we’ve made a nice place for you, master and missy, in here,” and she drew back a clean cotton curtain in one corner, behind which, on a sort of settle, Peter and she had placed one of their mattresses so as to make a nice shake-down.  “You’ll sleep very well in here, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes,” exclaimed the children, “us will be very comfortable.  What nice clean sheets!” continued Pamela; “it makes me fink of our white beds at home,” and her voice grew rather doleful, as if she were going to cry.

“But you’ve no need to cry about your home now, missy dear,” said Tim.  “You’re on the way there.”