"Hurry, lovey! Here, take my arm. That's what father used to say when mother was tired; I 'member quite well. It's just a little bit further now. In one of my Sunday books there's a picture of Christian climbing a hill that led to the City Beautiful. The Hill Difficulty it was called. I expect this is it. Come on, Joan; we're almost there! Then we'll never be tired any more, but 'reign, reign for aye.'"
At that moment the children heard steps behind them, and looked round to see, only a few yards away, an ugly red-haired man, with a curious crooked eye and evil face, and a tall, sturdy woman with gleaming teeth, dusky locks, and crimson cheeks. He had seen them before, Darby remembered all at once, hanging about the back gate at Copsley Farm one day when he was peeping from the skylight in the stable loft. They must be the gipsies who had been haunting Copsley Wood; and the brave boy drew his sister closer to his side, as if with his own small body he would shield her from all harm.
"Good-evenin', my little dears," spoke the man's gruff voice right above Darby's head.
"Good-evening," answered the boy courteously, at the same time instinctively putting up his hand in order to raise his hat in the direction of Moll's flashing eyes. But there was no hat there, so he gave her a military salute instead.
"My, you are a rum un!" laughed the lady, looking admiringly upon the charming child.—"You're right, as usual, Joe Harris," she whispered, turning to her husband. "Them's the style for the Satellite Company! The silk gownd an' the shiner's mine; you can buy them soon's you please."
So saying, Moll snatched the screaming Joan clean out of her brother's encircling arms, raised her to her breast, and completely smothered the frightened child's sobs in the folds of her old scarlet shawl.
The after-glow had faded from out the west; the hilltops seemed bare and brown. The gates of the city were closed, thought Darby, and his lips quivered in disappointment as they had not done from fright. The moon now sailed slowly on her way through a placid sea of pearly sky. Her beams flooded the fields with a soft, pure radiance; they lingered over the sluggish waters of the canal until they shone with light and borrowed beauty. Everything was quiet; all around was peace.
Darby boldly stood his ground, and manfully faced his foes. Yet, with the wicked countenance of Joe Harris bending over him, with Joan's stifled cries beating in his ears, it was impossible to do anything more than seem brave; and the plucky little lad's face blanched paler than the moonbeams, while his heart stood still with nameless fear.