"It'th a practical joke, I shuppothe," said the dark man. "Our gardening friend wanth a liththon: and I'll thee he getth it."
"It wasn't his fault," said Dickie, wriggling earnestly in his high chair; "it was my fault. I fell asleep."
The girls crowded round him with questions and caresses.
"I ought to have cut the string in the train and told the guard—he's a friend of the gardener's," he said, "but I was asleep. I don't know as ever I slep' so sound afore. Like as if I'd had sleepy-stuff—you know. Like they give me at the orspittle."
I should not like to think that Markham had gone so far as to put "sleepy-stuff" in that bottle of milk; but I am afraid she was not very particular, and she may have thought it best to send Dickie to sleep so that he could not betray her or her gardener friend until he was very far away from both of them.
"But why," asked the long-nosed gentleman—"why put boyth in bathketth? Upthetting everybody like thith," he added crossly.
"It was," said Dickie slowly, "a sort of joke. I don't want to go upsetting of people. If you'll lift me down and give me me crutch I'll 'ook it."
But the young ladies would not hear of his hooking it.
"We may keep him, mayn't we, Mr. Rosenberg?" they said; and he judged that Mr. Rosenberg was a kind man or they would not have dared to speak so to him; "let's keep him
