"His relatives?" inquired Tom, eagerly.
"No," the woman replied, surprised at the question. "Mine."
"Because I know a little girl called Grace Lee," said Tom; "and I've been thinking that she might be related to your husband. Her father, who's dead, was a gipsy. He used to travel with a roundabout, and—oh, I'm afraid you don't know anything about him!"
"No, sir," answered Mrs. Lee, rather doubtfully. "I suppose he couldn't have been my husband's brother who went to Canada some twelve years ago, could he? He was always a rolling stone, and he might have come back to England without letting Moses know. Where is the little girl you speak of living?"
Tom explained with whom Grace made her home, and that she was very miserable with the Sordellos; and, he believed, harshly and cruelly treated.
"Poor little maid!" exclaimed the gipsy woman, sympathetically. "I'll tell Moses what you say, and he shall make inquiries at the Fair on Monday, and find out all he can about the child."
With that promise Tom was obliged to be satisfied. He had come to Hatwell Green through the meadows, and he returned the same way, lingering on the banks of the stream which flowed through the meadows to watch the trout jump, and to allow Tim to hunt field-mice, one of the little dog's favourite pastimes, so that it was past noon before he reached the town. Nevertheless, he loitered once more in the Market Square, which presented a much busier appearance now, for several fresh shows had arrived, and a shooting gallery was in course of erection. Hoping he might see the dwarf again, Tom hovered around the green caravan for some minutes; then, seeing no one, strolled on to the menagerie vans. Little escaped his observation, and by and by, under one of the vans, half hidden by a bundle of straw, he caught sight of a crouching figure—the figure of Tiny Jim. The little man appeared to be listening intently, and as Tom stopped to watch him, he heard sounds within the van, the cracking of a whip, and the growls of some animal. "I say, what's going on in there?" the boy inquired of a big man in a plaid suit of clothes, who was leaning against the van.
"What's that to do with you?" snapped the man, with a scowl.
"Nothing," said Tom, adding, "you have lost something."
"What?" questioned the man. He moved, and looked about him on the ground as he spoke.