"But, dear Sir Arthur," she exclaimed--"How?"
"How does one compare--er--little ones?" was the evasive reply of Sir Arthur.
The outraged parent turned upon him.
"You mean to say you laid those two innocents side by side upon the wet grass," she gasped, "and--"
"It was nearly dry," said Dicky soothingly.
I choked noisily, for I was rapidly losing self-control; but neither of the performers in the duologue took the slightest notice of me.
"I shall speak to my nurse to-morrow morning," announced Mrs. Botley-Markham firmly. "I cannot imagine what she was thinking about."
"Don't be hard on her," begged Dicky. "It was my fault entirely."
"It certainly was very naughty of you," said Mrs. Botley-Markham, already relenting, "but I forgive you--there!" She tapped the eccentric Sir Arthur playfully upon the arm. "Tell me, though, what does Gwladys weigh? Mere bigness in children is so often deceptive."
Even assuming that Gwladys was also the Little One, it was obvious that Dicky had not yet cleared his second fence. I began vaguely to calculate what a healthy child should weigh. A thirty-pound salmon, for instance--how would that compare with a fat baby? But Dicky made a final and really brilliant effort.