"Pleath it's only me," she explained, climbing out of her retreat. "The geeth were so angry, I wath quite frightened!"
"Are you a little goose girl?" asked the bishop, bending over her, and putting his hand under her chin.
"No," said Bumps, feeling distinctly aggrieved; "I'm not a gooth at all. It's a game, only the thtupid geeth won't play properly!"
"I am afraid my lord," said Mr. Errington, recovering his presence of mind, "that some young people have been making free of this belfry without my knowledge."
Then turning to Bumps he said, "Where are your brother and sister? I fancy they are the culprits."
"They're upstairs," said Bumps, tears filling her blue eyes, which she vainly struggled to keep back. "They're playing the game without me. They always does when I get left behind. The geeth wouldn't go up-stairs, but Jack and Jill made two of them go."
"And what game are you playing?" asked the bishop gently.
"It's something about Rome and geeth that have to cackle, and an enemy. Jack is the enemy; he is climbing up outthide, and the top is Rome, and the geeth have to wake Jill and me up. But I've never been athleep, and it's all no good!"
Tears dropped on her white pinafore.
The bishop looked more amused than angry. He turned to Mr. Errington—