“Yes, how silly I am!” said Pamela.  “I fink I forgot.  It’s such a long time ago since us slept in a nice clean bed with sheets.  I wish it was time to go to bed now.”

“I think it would be a very good plan if you and master was to take a little sleep.  You must be tired getting up so early,” suggested Mrs. Peter, devoutly hoping they would agree to let themselves be quietly stowed away behind the checked cotton curtain.  For poor Mrs. Peter was dreadfully afraid of the gipsies, and her motive in agreeing to befriend Tim and the children was really far more the wish to save them from the hands they had fallen among than any hope of reward.

“I’d rather bury baby, bless her, any day, than think of her among such,” she had said on hearing the story.

Duke and Pamela looked longingly at the “nice white sheets.”  They were both, to tell the truth, very sleepy, but dignity had to be considered.

“It’s only babies that go to bed in the day, Nurse says,” objected Duke.  “She said so one day that us got into our beds, and she said us had dirtied them with our shoes.  Us had been playing in the garden.”

“But you’ve no need to keep your shoes on,” said Mrs. Peter.  “And many a big person’s very glad to take a sleep in the day, when they’re tired and have been up very early maybe.”

So at last the twins allowed themselves to be persuaded, and Mrs. Peter’s heart, and Tim’s too, for that matter, were considerably lighter when the curtain was drawn forward and no trace of the little passengers was to be seen.  Tim, following the young woman’s advice, curled himself up in a corner where he was easily hidden.

“And now,” said Mrs. Peter, “I’ll just go up on the deck as usual, so that if any boats pass us who know us by sight, they’ll never think we’ve any runaways on board; though for my part I can’t see as that Mick’d dare to make much stir, seeing as he might be had up for stealing them.”

“It’s not him I’m so much afeared of as that Signor,” said Tim.  “He’s such a terrible sharp one, Diana says.”

“But the perlice must be after the children by now,” persisted Mrs. Peter.  “And every one far and wide knows of Crookford Fair and the gipsies that comes to it.”

“P’raps they’ve never thought of gipsies,” said Tim; and in this, as we know, he was about right.

The day passed peacefully.  They met several boats making for Crookford, who hailed them as usual, and they were overtaken by one or two others making their way more quickly, because towed by two horses.  But whether or not there had been any inquiry among the canal people at Crookford after the children, Peter and his party were left unmolested, and the sight of his wife and baby as usual on the deck would have prevented any one suspecting anything out of the common.

It was late afternoon when the three—­for Tim had slept as soundly as the others—­awoke.  At first, in their nest behind the curtain, Duke and Pamela could not imagine where they were—­then the touch and sight of the clean sheets recalled their memory.