had not turned out
well.

The coachman and footman sprang from the box and bent over the sleeping
Lamb.

"Fine boy--wish he was mine," said the coachman.

"He wouldn't favour _you_ much," said the groom sourly; "too 'andsome."

The coachman pretended not to hear. He said--

"Wonder at her now--I do really! Hates kids. Got none of her own, and
can't abide other folkses'."

The children, crouched in the white dust under the carriage, exchanged
uncomfortable glances.

"Tell you what," the coachman went on firmly, "blowed if I don't hide
the little nipper in the hedge and tell her his brothers took 'im! Then
I'll come back for him afterwards."

"No, you don't," said the footman. "I've took to that kid so as never
was. If anyone's to have him, it's me--so there!"

"Stop your talk!" the coachman rejoined. "You don't want no kids, and,
if you did, one kid's the same as another to you. But I'm a married man
and a judge of breed. I knows a firstrate yearling when I sees him. I'm
a-goin' to 'ave him, an' least said soonest mended."

"I should 'a' thought," said the footman sneeringly, "you'd a'most
enough. What with Alfred, an' Albert, an' Louise, an' Victor Stanley,
and Helena Beatrice, and another"--

The coachman hit the footman in the chin--the footman hit the coachman
in the waist-coat--the next minute the two were fighting here and there,
in and out, up and down, and all over everywhere, and the little dog
jumped on the box of the carriage and began barking like mad.

[Illustration: The next minute the two were fighting]

Cyril, still crouching in the dust, waddled on bent legs to the side of
the carriage farthest from the battlefield. He unfastened the door of
the carriage--the two men were far too much occupied with their quarrel
to notice anything--took the Lamb in his arms, and, still stooping,
carried the sleeping baby a dozen yards along the road to where a stile
led into a wood. The others followed, and there among the hazels and
young oaks and sweet chestnuts, covered by high strong-scented
brake-fern, they all lay hidden till the angry voices of the men were
hushed at the angry voice of the red-and-white lady, and, after a long
and anxious search, the carriage at last drove away.

"My only hat!" said Cyril, drawing a deep breath as the sound of wheels
at last died away. "Everyone _does_ want him now--and no mistake! That
Sammyadd has done us again! Tricky brute! For any sake, let's get the
kid saf