Pamela with some satisfaction and said she had plenty of eggs. They went in together to the dairy, and Mrs. Ensor, putting the baby down, proceeded to pick out eggs by dates pencilled on them. Meanwhile she talked. 

"Suppose you don’t happen to have met with our Reube--which way did you come, Missie?" Pamela explained. 

"I’m afraid he’s more like to be Ramsworthy way or, for all that comes to, Folly Ho. Mischeevious young monkey he is to be sure," she sighed, but smiled also with conscious pride in the "mischeevious" one. "For ever up to something--and for _looks_, why there--you’d think he only wanted a pair o’ wings to fly to Heaven." 

"He’s a dear little boy," said Pamela, "I like Reuben; he’s only six, though, isn’t he?" Mrs. Ensor said he was six, but had "double the years of naughtiness in him". It appeared that he had detached himself from the party of children coming from Ramsworthy school, said he’d got enough dinner left to do for his tea, and departed all alone. 

"There wasn’t one of them with ’thority to make him do as he was told you see, Missie," said the anxious mother, "he knows I want him for all sorts. He’s ever such a help. But there, once in a while off he’ll go; he never come for his tea, because he know’d I should catch him." Pamela sympathized secretly with "young Reube". When she said good-bye, she promised to look out for him, and urge upon him to return home speedily. Mrs. Ensor was very grateful. 

"That’s a weight off me, Missie," she declared. "Six ain’t no age when it comes to that, and these sea mists do seem to worrit anybody, sort of squeezing you in." Pamela departed, carrying her eggs carefully, and pursued her way towards Crown Hill, planning to cut through the park by a foot-track they were allowed to use, and go down into Bell Bay at the back of the valley, thus returning via Woodrising "according to plan". The last thing she saw of the farmer’s family was a general action, so to speak, amongst the children and animals in the "muck yard". Into this Mrs. Ensor dived, dispersing the contending arms, and restoring order. 

"I’m glad I shan’t have to be a farmer’s wife," thought Pamela, "it’s funny how happy they are." She remembered Reube; then she sat down on a felled log by the edge of the road to think, for a curious conviction had awakened in her mind and, as she stopped, seemed to fill every bit of her brain. Most people understand that feeling of _certainty_ about a thing they know nothing about. It comes of itself and stays. 

 Prev. P 65/404 next