"And the little one?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham tenderly.
I held my breath. Sir Arthur had reached his second fence.
"The little one," he replied after consideration, "is doing nicely. Not so very little, though, when you come to think of it," he continued, boldly taking the initiative.
"Has she grown so big, then?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham, unconsciously giving away another point. The little one's sex was determined. Certainly it was an exhilarating game.
"Quite extraordinary," said Dicky. "How big," he continued cunningly, "would you imagine she was now?"
"Not as big as my Babs?" cried Mrs. Botley-Markham incredulously.
"That," replied The Freak, "is just exactly how big she is." There was the least tinge of disappointment in his voice. Evidently he had hoped for something more tangible. For purposes of mensuration Babs was useless to him.
"Why 'just exactly'?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham doubtfully. "You are very precise about it."
"We met Babs in the Park the other day," replied the audacious Dicky, "and compared them."
Mrs. Botley-Markham frankly gaped.