Ginger remembered the pangs of hunger, of which excitement had
momentarily rendered him oblivious, and, deciding that there was no
time like the present, took a cake from the stand and began to consume
it in silence.

"You'd better be careful," said the young lady to her hostess; "he
might have escaped from the asylum. He looks mad. He had a very mad
look, I thought, when he was standing at the window."

"He's evidently hungry, anyway. I can't think why father doesn't
come."

Here Ginger, fortified by a walnut bun, remembered his mission.

"It's all right now," he said. "You can go home. He's shut up. Me an'
William shut him up."

"You see!" said the young lady with a meaning glance around. "I _said_
he was from the asylum. He looked mad. We'd better humour him and ring
up the asylum. Have another cake, darling boy," she said in a tone of
honeyed sweetness.

Nothing loth, Ginger selected an ornate pyramid of icing.

At this point there came a bellowing and crashing and tramping outside
and Miss Priscilla's father, roaring fury and threats of vengeance,
hurled himself into the room. Miss Priscilla's father had made his
escape by a small window at the other end of the shed. To do this he
had had to climb over the coals in the dark. His face and hands and
clothes and once-white beard were covered with coal. His eyes gleamed