Peter leaned over the counter and whispered: "Can you come out? I've got something special to tell you, and I want to know about my bike."

"I can't come yet. She's out and I'm minding the shop till she comes back... But she won't be long, and then I'll come, Peter - I'd love to."

"All right. I say, Jenny. I want some paper and a pen. I've got a special letter to write. Can you lend me some?"

"You'd better come into the office," said Jenny importantly. "And if Mum comes back afore you've done," she went on, "you'd better get down on the floor under the desk and then she won't see you... But buck up do, please, Peter, 'cause all this makes me nervous."

Peter found a pen which would write, and then realized that she had a particularly important message to send and that by a later rule of the Lone Pine Club she ought to write in code. She had just closed the envelope and was drawing the silhouette of the Lonely Pine on the flap when she heard the sound of singing in the street. Somehow the voice seemed familiar, and when, with it, came the steady "clip-clop" of a horse's hooves, she rushed out to join Jenny on the pavement, and there was Reuben on the driving seat of the caravan, with Miranda at his side!

"Hello!" Peter called excitedly. "Hello, Mr. Reuben! It's me, Peter! I got here safely! Where are you going?"

The gipsy woman smiled a welcome.

"So you are safe and well, eh? That's good. And the old man?" asked Reuben.

"Yes! Yes!" she said. "He's all right, too, thank you... At least I suppose he is really... He's a bit peculiar."

The gipsy smiled again.

"Maybe. We are going to Onnybrook round the side of the mountain. We are told we shall sell baskets there... We do not like this place, but we said we would pass your farm again to see if there was anything we might do for you..."

Peter was so excited that she did not see an ominous figure hurrying up the pavement towards them.

"Could you go to Witchend, Mr. Reuben? Please would you do that for me? I've got two letters, and if you could take them it would be much better and safer - and more mysterious, too," she added half to herself.

He grinned and touched his old hat.

"Deliver tomorrow, missy. Safer than postman," and he leaned down to take the two letters. Before Peter could pass them up an acid voice at her side said:

"Come inside this very minute, Jenny! How dare you stand there talking to idle, good-for-nothing vagabonds!... And as for you, miss," she added, turning to Peter, "I'll trouble you not to come seeking my girl again. We want nothing here from Seven Gates."

And with this parting shot Mrs. Harman flourished her umbrella and stumped into her own shop and set the bell a-jangling.