"Must we?" and Joe Harris laughed harshly. "Look here, my chick," said he, with an ugly leer, "you're comin' wi' us; that's settled, so you may stow yer cheek an' hurry up, or it'll be the worse for you!"
"You stop, Joe," whispered Moll angrily, nudging her husband with her elbow. "You'll frighten the little un, then she'll make a row, an' somebody'll hear her. Leave them to me.—Don't mind the gentleman, ducky," she continued, addressing Darby. "He's fond o' sayin' funny things; that's his way. Do you see the smoke an' the light yonder?" she asked, pointing in the direction of the caravan. "Well, that's our house—the purtiest little house that ever you seed; an' when we gets home there'll be some nice goody-goody supper for us. You come along, sensible and quiet, an' you an' little missy here'll both get share. Then after supper there's heaps an' heaps o' cur'osities for you to look at. Our house is jest chock-full up wi' funny things."
Darby was in a difficulty. Moll certainly spoke very fair. He was hungry, notwithstanding the refreshments he had consumed in the cabin of the Smiling Jane, and the prospect of something savoury was undoubtedly tempting. Then he dearly loved looking at things—odds and ends, picked up here and there, such as he imagined Moll's house contained. Joan was in a deep sleep, with her golden head pillowed on Mrs. Harris's broad shoulder. There would be no use in waking her up; she would only begin to cry. Darby was weary himself, too—so weary that he would fain have flung his little body down on the heath where he stood and slept some of his weariness away.
But the Happy Land! Would it not be better to hurry on, late though it was? They would be sure to get in if they knocked loud enough and gave their names at the gate. Then they could rest as long as they pleased, with nothing to disturb or frighten them any more, and live always good and happy—"blest, blest for aye."
These thoughts flashed through Darby's busy brain very fast. Then he answered Moll in his direct, simple way.
"No, thank you," he said; "you are very kind, but we must be getting on our way. I will carry Joan," he added, with a tired little gasp, looking apprehensively up the long stretch of rough ground rising right in front, and the now gloomy hilltop, above which heavy black clouds hung, like the curtain of night about to descend and smother them in its sombre folds.
"You can go on yer journey when you've rested a bit," coaxed the cunning woman. "Or in the mornin'," she added; "that 'ud be best. You'd lose yer way in the dark, sartin sure. I'll give you an' missy one o' the nice beds that's in my house, where ye'll sleep soun' as tops. Then after ye've had yer breakfasts in the mornin' ye'll start; an' my, ye'll be there—wherever ye're goin'—in a jiffy! What do you think o' that?"
"Well, perhaps, since you are so very kind as to invite us to supper and to stay for the night, and my sister seems so very tired—perhaps your plan might be best," said Darby slowly. Then he added quickly, "But are you sure you'll let us go when we want to in the morning—first thing after breakfast?"
"Sure's anythin'," declared Moll unblushingly. "Mr. Harris himself here'll put ye on the road.—Won't you, Joe?" asked Moll, with a sly laugh.
"Sartin," answered Joe promptly. "I've never bin in the Happy Land myself, but I'm familiar wi' the way there. I'll start the kids for it right enough, you bet," and the ugly man winked at his wife knowingly.