"Oh, indeed. I wonder how you'd like a highwayman darting suddenly down upon you, Mr. Derrick, and saying 'Hands up'?"
"I'd be equal to him if he did, no fear," replied the Stripling grimly.
Lesbia did not trouble to pursue the argument, for the very good reason that she was suddenly possessed with an idea, such an excellent and brilliant idea that she chuckled softly to herself over it. She kept it dark from Derrick, but confided it to Regina at the first opportunity. Her chum's explosions made the Stripling prick up his ears.
"What are you two after?" he asked, with suspicion.
"Oh, nothing for small boys," choked Regina.
"You've always got some silly joke."
"Well, we're going to keep this one to ourselves at any rate."
"Little things please little minds!" scoffed the Stripling.
"Right-o! You won't get it out of us that way."
What Lesbia proposed was that she should dress up in a landgirl's costume which she had seen in a cupboard at the cottage, take one of the old pistols that hung in the hall, go into the lane that evening, and lie in wait for Derrick, who would be cycling back from Cefn station where he always went to buy an evening paper at the bookstall. The plan seemed most feasible. The lane was narrow, it would be almost dark, and she hoped to be able to pull him off his bicycle before he discovered the joke.