elds. Oswald was compelled to go
on holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changed
hands, and begin to yell again. Dora's flannelette petticoat had been
got off somehow--how I do not seek to inquire--and the Secret was
covered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with
a view to concealment if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear.
Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn't come
there much, it's too many stairs.

With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed,
but did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it
did not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious
fits, it would just as soon have done as not.

We expected Albert's uncle every minute.

At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and
saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald
horse--one of the miller's horses.

A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember
having done anything wrong at the miller's. But you never know. And it
seemed strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we had
looked a bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For we
saw that the distracted one was a gentleman.

Presently he rode off, and Albert's uncle came in. A deputation met him
at the door--all the boys and Dora, because the baby was her idea.

'We've found something,' Dora said, 'and we want to know whether we may
keep it.'

The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to keep
it after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. Even Noel had
said he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora said it only cried
because it was sleepy, but we reflected that it would certainly be
sleepy once a day, if not oftener.

'What is it?' said Albert's uncle. 'Let's see this treasure-trove. Is it
a wild beast?'

'Come and see,' said Dora, and we led him to our room.

Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, and
showed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping.

'A baby!' said Albert's uncle. 'THE Baby! Oh, my cat's alive!'

That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed with
anger.

'Where did you?--but that doesn't matter. We'll talk of this later.'

He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount his
bicycle and ride off.

Quite shortly he returned with t