That was the question which the others, in a hurried council held among the yellowing brake-fern a few yards from the sleeper, debated eagerly. "Whichever it is, it'll be just as awful," said Anthea. "If his inside senses are grown up too, he won't stand our looking after him; and if he's still a baby inside of him how on earth are we to get him to do anything? And it'll be getting on for dinner-time in a minute." "And we haven't got any nuts," said Jane. "Oh bother nuts!" said Robert, "but dinner's different--I didn't have half enough dinner yesterday. Couldn't we tie him to the tree and go home to our dinner and come back afterwards?" "A fat lot of dinner we should get if we went back without the Lamb!" said Cyril in scornful misery. "And it'll be just the same if we go back with him in the state he is now. Yes, I know it's my doing; don't rub it in! I know I'm a beast, and not fit to live; you can take that for settled, and say no more about it. The question is, what are we going to do?" "Let's wake him up, and take him into Rochester or Maidstone and get something to eat at a baker's shop," said Robert hopefully. "Take him?" repeated Cyril. "Yes--do! It's all my fault--I don't deny that--but you'll find you've got your work cut out for you if you try to take that young man anywhere. The Lamb always was spoilt, but now he's grown up he's a demon--simply. I can see it. Look at his mouth." "Well then," said Robert, "let's wake him up and see what _he'll_ do. Perhaps _he'll_ take _us_ to Maidstone and stand treat. He ought to have a lot of money in the pockets of those extra-special pants. We _must_ have dinner, anyway." They drew lots with little bits of brake fern. It fell to Jane's lot to waken the grown-up Lamb. She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle. He said "Bother the flies!" twice, and then opened his eyes. [Illustration: She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle] "Hullo, kiddies!" he said in a languid tone, "still here? What's the giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!" "I know we shall," said Robert bitterly. "Then cut along home," said the grown-up Lamb. "What about your grub, though?" asked Jane. "Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of a notion that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club." Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The Lamb--alone--unattended--would go to town and have lunch at a club! Perhaps he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him amid the dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would wail miserably for "Panty" from the depths of a club arm-chair! The picture moved Anthea almost to tears. "Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!" she cried incautiously.