"Fibo! Fibo! When can I go and see Michael in prison? Freda and Daffy and me all want to go."
"Not so fast!" said Fibo. "Poor Michael hasn't been brought before the magistrates yet."
"But the police have got him."
"I don't know where he is at present. I'm going to find out. I assure you, he won't be hustled into prison so quickly. You seem anxious to get him there."
Dreamikins sat down on the floor with a perplexed frown on her face.
"I are sorry for him, very truly sorry, but you see, Fibo dear, he'll be in the very place we want to go to. And you mustn't on no account whatever stop us from going, because it's so very important. Don't you remember what the Bible says?"
"Now I see what you're driving at. But you're asking a big thing, Dreamikins, and perhaps you'll be disappointed. Michael may never be put in prison after all. I hope not. He'll get off with a fine, I dare say. Prison hardens lads like that. Wouldn't you rather he stayed away from prison altogether?"
Dreamikins sighed heavily.
"It's very differcult, Fibo. I don't want to feel unkind about him."
"I'm sure you don't."