"It's just what I would have expected of her, David. Bless her!"

Then the twins were packed off to bed protesting, and after supper David wandered over to the caravan. The gipsies asked him in, and he shared a seat on one of the bunks and drank tea out of a chipped mug, while Reuben told him the best way to Seven Gates.

"You'd best go right over the top, young man; it's the quickest in the end. Go round this mountain by Onnybrook road and then head straight for Stiperstones and then up to Devil's Chair. When you're up seek for a steep valley on your left called Black Dingle, and that will take you down to Seven Gates."

But when David questioned him about Peter's mysterious relations and the farm, neither of them would say much and they changed the subject.

"But it's a strange country, Mr. David, as I was telling your friend. A strange, wild country and a bad country, too. But over other side of Stiperstones there's places full of old Roman mines, they say. And you'll take care with those little 'uns when you're on the hills, for the rocks and stones are loose and there's many an old mine shaft has fallen in and many a quarry long since forgotten."

Suddenly there was a fumbling at the door of the caravan and an urgent, tragic voice whispered: "David! Are you in there? Let me in!"

Reuben opened the door. Below, at the foot of the steps, stood the twins. Their faces looked white in the light from the hanging lamp, and as they were both only in pyjamas and dressing-gowns, their teeth were chattering with the cold.

"What's the matter?" David demanded.

"Oh, don't make a fuss for a minute, David," Mary said as she climbed up into the warmth. "Just close the door while we tell you the awfullest news."

"G-g-g-o-sh! David!" stuttered the shivering Dickie. "Oh, gosh, David! It's the worst news I ever knew... I guess it's fatal," he added inconsequently.

"All right, David," Mary broke in. "Mummy and Agnes are in the kitchen doin' things, and they don't know we're here. We want you to go and tell her to stop packing and things like that."

"You see, David," Dickie went on, "Mummy's just wastin' her time. Just fritterin' it away, as Agnes says."

David and the gipsies stared at them in bewilderment, and even Fenella sat up in the top bunk and rubbed her eyes.

"What are you burbling about?" said David angrily, "Stop being little idiots and get back to bed."

Mary's eyes were enormous in her pale face.

"David," she said tragically, "we can't go. Well, I can't, anyway. I don't know about Dickie, but I don't think he can go either... he'd better not, anyway."

Her twin looked uneasy at this remark, but repeated almost as if hypnotised:

"No, we can't go."