“Yes.”
“Where?” cried Singh eagerly.
“In his bed.”
“Oh!” roared Singh passionately; and hearing his loud voice the elephant grunted and began to rise slowly.
“There, I knew you would do it,” cried Glyn, who was bubbling over with fun. “He’s coming upstairs.”
“Oh!” cried Singh again, with an ejaculation of dismay, as he hurried to the window, thrust out his head, and shouted something that sounded like “Gangarroo rubble dubble.”
But whatever it meant, it stopped the elephant from crashing through a piece of palisading, and made it kneel again with its head over a flowerbed, and begin picking all the blossoms within its reach.
“Oh dear, just look at him!” cried Singh piteously. “And here you are laughing as if it were the best fun you have ever seen!”
“Well, so it is,” cried Glyn—“a regular game!”
“Game! Why, I feel as if I could run away to guardian at the hotel, and never show my face here again.”