perhaps term him, found himself the degraded
nursemaid of a small but furious kid.

He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat its
brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however
innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walked
earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back,
while the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell.

Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. He
looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithful
eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house.

The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms and
Dora, but he answered without anger.

"Shut up," he said, in a whisper of imperial command. "Can't you see
it's _gone to sleep_?"

* * * * *

As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a very
long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends dragged
their weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was compelled to go on
holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changed
hands, and begin to yell again. Dora's flannelette petticoat had been
got off somehow--how I do not seek to inquire--and the Secret was
covered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with
a view to concealment if we met Mrs. Pettigrew. But the coast was clear.
Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs. Pettigrew doesn't come
there much; it's too many stairs.

With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed,
but did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it
did not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious
fits, it would just as soon have done as not.

We expected Albert's uncle every minute.

At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and
saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald
horse--one of the miller's horses.

A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember
having done anything wrong at the miller's. But you never know. And it
seemed strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we had
looked a bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For we
saw that the distracted one was a gentleman.

Presently he rode off, and Albert's uncle came in. A deputation met him
at the door--all the boys