"Sound mind--above-board--ship-shape," repeated a dazed voice. "Where is
he?"

"Out at the back," replied Mr. Travers. "If you go to the window you can
see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good
girl."

There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a
long time, and then the board creaked again.

"Did you see him?" he inquired.

"I did," was the sharp reply. "You both ought to be ashamed of
yourselves. You ought to be punished."

"There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head," remarked Mr.
Travers. "What are you going to do?"

There was no reply.

"What are you going to do?" repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily.
"You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge
through this crack."

There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving
hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned.

"You ought to have done it before," commented the thoughtful Mr. Travers.
"It's enough to give you your death of cold."