The caravans were full. The horses bought. Where, and how? I did not know but we saw them come and everything was then ready for the departure. We did not know if we were to stay with the old grandfather or go with the family, but my father, finding that we made good money playing, told us the night before that we should go on the road with him and play our music.
“Let us go back to France,” urged Mattia; “here’s a good chance now.”
“Why not travel through England?”
“Because I tell you something’s going to happen if we stay here, and besides we might find Mrs. Milligan and Arthur in France. If he has been ill she will be sure to take him on their barge, now the summer is coming.”
I told him that I must stay.
The same day we started. I saw in the afternoon how they sold the things that cost so little. We arrived at a large village and the caravans were drawn up on the public square. One of the sides was lowered and the goods displayed temptingly for the purchasers to inspect.
“Look at the price! Look at the price!” cried my father. “You couldn’t find anything like this elsewhere for the price! I don’t sell ’em; I’m giving ’em away. Look at this!”
“He must have stolen them,” I heard the people say when they saw the prices. If they had glanced at my shamed looks, they would have known that they were right in their suppositions.
If they did not notice me, Mattia did. “How much longer can you bear this?” he asked.
I was silent.