her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud.
••••••
They fed him a little later on some chickenfeed that they found in Sidney's quiet barn, a pail of buttermilk out of the dairy, and a quantity of onions from a shelf in the back-kitchen.
'Seed-onions, most likely,' said Connie. 'You'll hear about this.'
'What does it matter? They ought to have been gilded. We must buy him.'
'And keep him as long as he lives,' she agreed. 'But I think I ought to go home now. You see, when I came out I didn't expect . . . Did you?'
'No! Yes. . . . It had to come. . . . But if any one had told me an hour ago! . . . Sidney's unspeakable parlour—and the mud on the carpet.'
'Oh, I say! Is my cheek clean now?'
'Not quite. Lend me your hanky again a minute, darling. . . . What a purler you came!'
'You can't talk. 'Remember when your chin hit that table and you said "blast"! I was just going to laugh.'
'You didn't laugh when I picked you up. You were going "oo-oo-oo" like a little owl.'
'My dear child'
'Say that again!'
'My dear child. (Do you really like it? I keep it for my best friends.) My dee-ar child, I thought I was going to be sick there and then. He knocked every ounce of wind out of me—the angel! But I must really go.'
