The next moment, with a loud rumbling of the eyes, Jane came alongside. "Oh, dearie," she cried, "you couldn't hire me to go. And I wouldn't like to see you go. I think too much of you, I do indeed."
"Hold your tongue!" ordered the little old gentleman, crossly.
Jane obeyed. Up came a hand, and she seized the tongue-tip in her front mouth. But since there was a second tongue-tip in that back face, she still continued her babbling: "Don't ask me to trapse over the hard pavements on my poor tired feet, dearie, just because you take your notions.... Come, I say! Your mother's nobody, anyhow.... You don't know what you're sayin' or doin', poor thing! You're just wanderin', that's all—just wanderin'."
"I'm wandering in the right direction, anyhow," retorted Gwendolyn, stoutly. And to the little old gentleman, "I'm sorry we're going this way, though. I'm 'fraid of Bears,"—for the sign was past now; the four were on the level thoroughfare.
The Policeman seemed not to have remarked her anxiety. "And after the Den, what do we pass?" he questioned.
"The Big Rock," answered the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.
"Do we have to turn it?" The other spoke with some annoyance. "What's likely to come out? I suppose it won't be hiding that Bird."
"There's a hollow under the Rock," said the little old gentleman. "We'll find something." His face grew grave.
"And—and after we go by the Big Rock?" ventured Gwendolyn.
The little old gentleman smiled. "Ah, then!" he said, "—then we come to the Pillery!"