P.C. Roper read the license very carefully, frowned, and handed it back.
"It would save a lot of trouble," he said, "if you would produce such things directly you were asked for them."
"But we didn't know we'd got it," Janet said.
P.C. Roper pressed his hand to his forehead. "I don't know where I am," he muttered.
"They've got a caravan, and they don't know who gave it to them; and they've got envelopes, and they don't know what's in them. Does your mother know you're out?" he added as a farewell shot.
The Slowcoaches could not help it; they gave him three cheers, and then three more for Uncle Christopher.
"Well," said Janet, "that's all right, but it's lucky he did not see Uncle Christopher's letter. Listen:
DEAR CHILDREN,
"It has suddenly occurred to me that some ass of a policeman may want to see your license, and I have therefore procured one for you. If you get into any kind of trouble, be sure to give my name and address, and telegraph for me.
"Your affectionate Uncle,
CHRIS.
"It would have been better," Kink said, "if your uncle had handed you the license right away—not made a mystery of it."
"Oh, no," said Hester.