The following morning I handed him my copy of The Daily Sketch, on the front page of which was a large photograph of Gran'pa speeding down Regent Street on his scooter.
"You'll be pleased to find yourself in the papers already," I remarked, dryly.
"You don't say so!"
"Yes, I do. But it's nothing to what I think!"
"Mollikins!" he cried with the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old schoolboy. "Come and look at this!"
She darted to his side and together they pored over the pictorial journalist's idea of "news."
Before I left for town that morning, I took Nanny aside.
"For Heaven's sake," I warned her, "keep an eye on those two and see that they don't get into mischief while I'm away."