him a bit.'

'Not me,' replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the Secret.

Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the hut.

'I think he's cold,' she said. 'I thought I'd take off my flannelette
petticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard knot. Here, Oswald,
let's have your knife.'

With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald's jacket pocket, and next
moment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and screaming
almost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and to cry at the
same time. This is called hysterics.

Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that his
pocket was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly given him.
And, anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always carries his
knife in his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one.

Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the pile
of sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams for a
moment to listen to Dora's, but almost at once it went on again.

'Oh, get some water!' said Alice. 'Daisy, run!'

The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into the
arms of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have fallen a
wreck to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He tried to pass
it on to the others, but they wouldn't. Noel would have, but he was busy
kissing Dora and begging her not to. So our hero, for such I may perhaps
term him, found himself the degraded nursemaid of a small but furious
kid.

He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat
its brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however
innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walked
earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back,
while the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell.

Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. He
looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithful
eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house.

The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms and
Dora, but he answered without anger.

'Shut up,' he said in a whisper of imperial command. 'Can't you see it's
GONE TO SLEEP?'

As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a very
long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends dragged
their weary limbs back across the fi