"Is he a tinker?"
The boy nodded.
"And are you very poor? Wouldn't you like us to give you something to eat and drink?"
Another nod, but the boy's face brightened, and he looked up at them expectantly.
Alas, Jane came up.
"Now, Miss Freda, Nurse don't allow you to speak to tramps, I know."
"He isn't a tramp," said Freda indignantly; "his father is a tinker. We have a picture in our book 'Tim the Tinker.' They're kind of gipsies, and he's a very nice little boy."
Daffy bent her head near the stranger child.
"Come up to the Hall this afternoon at three o'clock, and wait behind the big tree in front of the house," she whispered.
Freda heard the whisper and approved. Very often whilst she hotly disputed with Nurse, Daffy quietly went and did the thing they wanted to do.