"—And the fairies, and the gnomes, and the giants; and Mother Goose and her crowd. Of course a nurse or a governess or a teacher of some sort might try to explain. Wouldn't do any good, though. You wouldn't understand."
The Policeman swung his head back and forth, nodding. "That's the worst," said he, "of being a Poor—" Here he fell suddenly silent, and spatted the dust with his palms in an embarrassed way.
She understood. "A Poor Little Rich Girl," she said, "who doesn't see her fath-er and moth-er."
"But you will," he declared determinedly, and forged ahead faster than ever, white hand following white hand.
It was then that Gwendolyn heard the nurse muttering and chortling to herself. "Well, I never!" exclaimed the tongue-tip that was not being held. "If this ain't a' automobile road! Why, it's a fine automobile road! Ha! ha! ha! That makes a difference!"
Gwendolyn was startled. What did Jane mean? What difference? Why so much satisfaction all at once? She wished the others would listen; would take note of the triumphant air. But both were busy, the little old gentleman chattering and pointing ahead, the Policeman straining to keep pace and look where his companion directed.
To lessen her uneasiness, Gwendolyn hunted a second stick of candy. Then sidled in between her two friends. "Oh, please," she began appealingly, with a glance up and a glance down, "I'm 'fraid Jane's going to make us trouble. Can't we think of some way to get rid of her?"
The Policeman twisted his neck around until he could wink at her with his black eye. "In town," said he meaningly, "we Policemen have a way."
"Oh, tell us!" she begged. For the Man-Who-Makes-Faces looked keenly interested.
"Well," resumed the Officer—and now he halted just long enough to raise a gloved finger to one side of his head with a significant gesture—"when we want to get rid of a person, we put a flea in his ear."