"No, thank you," was the dignified reply. "I shall be havin' a glass of milk soon. But I will watch you," added Miss Dumps indulgently.
She rolled over with some difficulty on to her back, and lay staring solemnly at the mud-encrusted vault above her, while her harassed parent resumed his task of digging with the spanner for a buried nut.
"I've opened the gates, Daddy," announced the small lady presently, in tones which were intended not so much to convey information as to remind her companion that he was forgetting his duties as a conversationalist.
"Thank you, madam," replied Mr. Mablethorpe. "Is the road clear?"
"I seen a little boy."
"Trust you for that! Well, we must contrive not to run over him. Just look in my left ear and see if you can find a nut, there's a good girl. I rather fancy I heard it drop in just now. No, don't bother. Here it is in my eye. Now we are really getting on!"
He adjusted the nut to the now exhumed bolt, and began to screw it tight with the spanner. The recumbent Dumps turned her head and regarded him admiringly.
"You are clever, Daddy!" she said.
"You are right," admitted her parent modestly. "I am a wonder. People simply come miles to—Dash and confound the rotten thing! Run your finger round the inside of my collar, Daniel Lambert. I think I can feel it lying somewhere round at the back."
Once more the fugitive nut was recaptured and replaced—this time permanently. Mr. Julius Mablethorpe wriggled painfully from under the car on the gravel drive, and then, rising to his legs, politely dragged his daughter out by the heels, and having first stood her upon her head (in order, as he explained, to give her feet a rest) restored her to an upright position, and surveyed her doubtfully.