'Ay, that it will. Lo', I wouldn't mention the matter even to the wife o' my boozum.'
Chops and Lotty worked together an evening or two before the 'Gipsy Queen' started as secretly as if they had been a couple of smugglers or pirates.
There was Lotty's big box to be sent away; but that would go after her, and he, Chops, would see to it. During her journey she would only have her best clothes on, and one bag that she could carry.
But then there were provisions and stores to be thought of—milk and water and fruit, and a big box of chocolates that Chops had bought her. Not even were candles and matches nor Lotty's flashlight forgotten.
As to Wallace—who was watching the pair of them, and no doubt wondering a good deal what was up—he was to be left in the charge of Chops until happier days came round, when she should meet them both again.
Well, the caravan was to start at midnight from the station, but she was taken away to that place in the afternoon. The very last thing that Lotty did was to gather a lapful of the wild-flowers he—Antony—loved so well, and bedeck the saloon and bedroom therewith.
At long last Lotty had one more look round the camp to say good-bye to Bruin. She dared not excite suspicion by saying good-bye to any one else; but Mary noticed the poor girl had been crying, and wondered much what was the reason of her sadness.
She only said, 'Good-night, Mary. Crona wants me to stop a while with her, and I want to see her again.'
'See you to-morrow, anyhow,' said Mary.
That was all. And if Lotty had really told a little white fib, and she feared she had, she was much concerned about it. She was very silent all the way through the forest, and permitted Chops to lead her most of the way. But just as they came in sight of Crona's cottage Chops stopped.