"I think," said Dawn meditatively, "if we go up to that signpost, we shall find which is the nearest village. We could go and buy some sweets in a shop. That would be first-rate!"
They set off across the common, and Christina began to cheer up. By the time they reached the signpost she was quite ready for any adventure that might befall them, and Dawn's fertile brain was inventing rapidly a hundred possibilities.
"Here is the first one!" said Dawn, waving his hand impressively. "A gipsy, who has run away with a little girl! He is asleep, and it is our duty to deliver her."
For a moment Christina thought it might be truth. There, lying face downwards on the grass, was the figure of a burly man. A little girl was sitting by his side, and a few yards off an old horse was grazing. He had been unharnessed from a small cart, which seemed full of tinware and crockery.
Christina looked at the little girl with the deepest interest. She had a clean face, and her hair was plaited in two tails down her back, but a red handkerchief was tied round her head instead of a hat, and her dress was very patched and ragged.
Dawn looked up at the signpost, then at the man lying underneath it.
"Is he your father, or has he stolen you?" he asked the little girl bluntly.
"He's my father, and wot's that to yer!" the child answered shrilly.
Christina shrank back frightened at her tone, but Dawn laughed.
"I expect you're having a picnic like us. My dad has got a horse and cart over in those woods. Have you had your dinner?"