“What are you doing in our yard?” she demanded.
The captain's face relaxed as the sound of voices died away. He gave his moustache a twist, and eyed her with frank admiration.
“Escaping,” he said, briefly. “They nearly had me, though.”
“You had no business to escape into our yard,” said the girl. “What have you been escaping from?”
“Fat policeman,” said the skipper, jauntily, twisting his moustache.
Miss Pilbeam, only daughter of Sergeant Pilbeam, caught her breath sharply.
“What have you been doing?” she inquired, as soon as she could control her voice.
“Nothing,” said the skipper, airily, “nothing. I was kicking a stone along the path and he told me to stop it.”
“Well?” said Miss Pilbeam, impatiently.
“We had words,” said the skipper. “I don't like policemen—fat policemen—and while we were talking he happened to lose his balance and go over into some mud that was swept up at the side of the road.”