ge a lady--very grand indeed, with a dress all white lace and
red ribbons and a parasol all red and white--and a white fluffy dog on
her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She looked at the children,
and particularly at the Baby, and she smiled at him. The children were
used to this, for the Lamb was, as all the servants said, a "very taking
child." So they waved their hands politely to the lady and expected her
to drive on. But she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And
she beckoned to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said--

"What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I _should_ so like to adopt it!
Do you think its mother would mind?"

"She'd mind very much indeed," said Anthea shortly.

"Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden.
You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers. They call me
a Beauty, you know, but of course that's all nonsense. Anyway"--

She opened the carriage door and jumped out. She had the wonderfullest
red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. "Let me hold him a minute,"
she said. And she took the Lamb and held him very awkwardly, as if she
was not used to babies.

Then suddenly she jumped into the carriage with the Lamb in her arms and
slammed the door, and said, "Drive on!"

The Lamb roared, the little white dog barked, and the coachman
hesitated.

"Drive on, I tell you!" cried the lady; and the coachman did, for, as he
said afterwards, it was as much as his place was worth not to.

The four children looked at each other, and then with one accord they
rushed after the carriage and held on behind. Down the dusty road went
the smart carriage, and after it, at double-quick time, ran the
twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters.

[Illustration: At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the
Lamb's brothers and sisters]

The Lamb howled louder and louder, but presently his howls changed by
slow degrees to hiccupy gurgles, and then all was still, and they knew
he had gone to sleep.

The carriage went on, and the eight feet that twinkled through the
dust were growing quite stiff and tired before the carriage stopped at
the lodge of a grand park. The children crouched down behind the
carriage, and the lady got out. She looked at the Baby as it lay on the
carriage seat, and hesitated.

"The darling--I won't disturb it," she said, and went into the lodge to
talk to the woman there about a setting of eggs that