“Oh, it’ll be the same as usual,” remarked Junkie in a tone of contempt. “There’s always something goes wrong in the middle of it. He tried to take Boxer the other day, and he wagged his tail in the middle of it. Then he tried the cat, and she yawned in the middle. Then Flo, and she laughed in the middle. Then me, an’ I forgot, and made a face at Flo in the middle. It’s a pity it has got a middle at all; two ends would be better, I think. But won’t you tell about the elephants to us, Mr Jackman? There’s plenty of us here—please!”
“Nay, Junkie; you would not have me break my word, surely. When we are all assembled together you shall have it—some wet day, perhaps.”
“Then there’ll be no more wet days this year, if I’ve to wait for that,” returned the urchin half sulkily.
That same day, Milly, Barret, and Jackman arranged that the mystery of the cowardly young man must be cleared up.
“Perhaps it would be best for Miss Moss to explain to her mother,” said Giles.
“That will not I,” said Milly with a laugh.
“I have decided what to do,” said Barret. “I was invited by her to call and explain anything I had to say, and apologise. By looks, if not by words, I accepted that invitation, and I shall keep it. If you could only manage somehow, Milly, to get everybody out of the way, so that I might find your mother alone in—”
“She’s alone now,” said Milly. “I left her just a minute ago, and she is not likely to be interrupted, I know.”
“Stay, then; I will return in a few minutes.”
Barret retired to his room, whence he quickly returned with shooting coat, knickerbockers, pot-cap and boots, all complete.