"THE HIGHLANDER, WITH HIS USUAL BAD LUCK, HAD PUT ON HIS SUNBONNET BACKWARD."
"We're disguised, you know," said the Admiral, breathlessly. "We found these things under the bed. Bob Scarlet isn't anywhere about, is he?" he added, staring around in an agitated manner through his spy-glass.
"About?" said Dorothy, trying to look serious. "I should think he was about five miles from here by this time."
"I wish it was five thousand," exclaimed Sir Walter, angrily, smoothing down his frock. "Old Peckjabber!"
"Why, what in the world is the matter?" said Dorothy, beginning to laugh in spite of herself.
"Matter!" exclaimed the Admiral, his voice fairly trembling with emotion; "why, look here! We was all shrinking away to nothing in that wanishing garden. Bob Scarlet himself was no bigger than an ant when we came away."
"And we wasn't any bigger than uncles," put in the Highlander.
"You're not more than three inches high this minute," said Sir Walter, surveying Dorothy with a critical air, with his head cocked on one side.
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Dorothy, with a start. "It seems to me that's extremely small. I should think that I'd have felt it coming on."