"You are right," admitted her parent modestly. "I am a wonder. People simply come miles to--Dash and confound the rotten thing! Run your finger round the inside of my collar, Daniel Lambert. I think I can feel it lying somewhere round at the back." Once more the fugitive nut was recaptured and replaced--this time permanently. Mr. Julius Mablethorpe wriggled painfully from under the car on the gravel drive, and then, rising to his legs, politely dragged his daughter out by the heels, and having first stood her upon her head (in order, as he explained, to give her feet a rest) restored her to an upright position, and surveyed her doubtfully. "We shall get into trouble with Mother, Dumpling," was his first remark. He was right. At that moment the front door opened, and Mrs. Mablethorpe appeared. "I can only say, Julius," she began at once,--as a matter of fact, no one had invited her to say anything.--"that I am not in the least surprised at anything you may do; but I _think_"--her voice quavered tearfully--"that you might have had the sense to prevent that child from crawling about in the mud too. Baby, go into the house and ask nurse to give you a bath at once. Your hands and face are black!" "But I am quite white, Mummy," replied Miss Dumpling soothingly (one soon picked up the habit of speaking soothingly to Mrs. Mablethorpe), "all over the rest of myself. Look, I'll show you!" Before any one could stop her, the infant detached a stocking from its moorings and rolled it down to her ankle. "There!" she said triumphantly. Mrs. Mablethorpe, fearing further enterprise, hurriedly reiterated her ultimatum on the subject of a bath. "A good hot one," she added. "The kiddie would do much better to wash her hands and face in cold water," said Mr. Mablethorpe. "What she is covered with is chiefly oil, and hot water will only open her little pores and drive it in." Mrs. Mablethorpe put her hand to her head, dizzily. "You know I cannot bear argument, Julius," she said, with a little moan. "Sorry!" said Mr. Mablethorpe humbly. "We must do as we are told, Dumps. We will go upstairs and wash in hot water. Then we shall have black hands and faces for months and months, and Mother won't be able to take us to Church. Hurrah!" And this undutiful parent and callous husband caught up his daughter on his shoulder and carried her, shrieking joyfully, to the nursery. Five minutes later he descended, clean and smiling, and after caressing his hypochondriacal spouse, set to work to start up his engine. After three back-fires this feat was accomplished, and the car, with much burring of gear-wheels and slipping of the clutch, started off upon its deafening career. The vehicle in question was an old friend, and like most old friends felt privileged to speak its mind on all occasions, which it did with no uncertain voice.