"If we can get her," Sandy had replied.
The boys reconnoitred, and the piercing whistle, which set the baby all a-quiver with expectation, sounded through the garden.
"There then, go!" said nurse somewhat crossly, as Barbe began to stamp; and she went. Her education was proceeding apace. Her father sometimes listened aghast at the things which, in her baby prattle, she reported herself to have done.
"See, Barbe, there's a rat!" Sandy said eagerly, as a flop and a splash made them jump. "See, it's swimmin' away."
"'Wimmin' away," said the baby, stooping to look, her two hands on her two knees, and the front of her frock sailing on the water before her.
"Oh, Barbe, you're all wet!" David said, as they landed, and strolled up the field.
"Wet!" she echoed delightedly. "Foots—f'ock!"
"You'll have to be dried."
"I know," said Sandy cheerfully; "we'll dry you by the Bishop's fire—almost sure to be a fire."
But the study window, to which they crept warily by sheltered ways, was shut. The Bishop was absent.