“What a nuisance you are,” said Mrs. Green. “But I suppose you must have it, or you’ll be crying for it. I expect it can be managed from Nelson’s shoulder. Just hand me your pick, Rags.” And this surprising woman began to mount the steps of the Column, pick in hand. But she had got no further than the lions when a little voice cried through the night, “Come out o’ that, will you? Just you leave the moon alone.” [Illustration: GYPSY AND GINGER’S FRIENDS 7: THE NIGHT WATCHMAN] The voice came from the roped-in enclosure in the Square where They had been doing something to London during the day. They are always doing something to London, either taking it away or putting it back, scraping it, painting it, or tarring and feathering it. It was one of Gypsy’s fears that one day They would take it all up at once and put it back in the wrong places; and it was one of Ginger’s hopes that They would. “Think how ripping it would be,” said Ginger, “if one morning you found the Temple Gardens in the Camden Road.” “But think how horrible it would be,” urged Gypsy, “if one morning you found the Camden Road in the Temple Gardens.” “Don’t!” shuddered Ginger. “Well, that’s the risk, you see. You couldn’t be sure.” “Why does one sound all right and the other all wrong?” wondered Ginger. She wondered about it often after this, and decided that the next time They took up the Camden Road They’d better lose it, and put apple-trees from Nowhere there instead. But this is a digression. “Just you leave the moon alone!” cried the wild little voice from the Night Watchman’s box in the Square. Everybody turned to look. What they saw was a small fierce figure in an old top hat and a long-tailed coat dancing excitedly round and round the roped-in enclosure. In one hand he had a telescope, and in the other a pair of field-glasses, both of which he flourished in the direction of the Balloon Woman. “You would, would you?” he shrilled. “Come out o’ that, you Mrs. Green.” “Oh dear, oh dear,” said Ginger. “I’m afraid this is all my fault.” She hurried to the enclosure. “Please do be quiet and tell me why you don’t want me to have the moon.” “The thoughtlessness of the young!” said the little man, mopping his brow with a blue handkerchief dotted with white stars. “It’s all on account of the likes o’ you that the likes o’ me has to watch the night. A nice mess she’d get into otherwise.” “I’m so sorry. Come and have a sausage,” coaxed Ginger. He shook his head. “Can’t,” he said shortly. “What d’you suppose the rope’s here for?” “To keep us out,” suggested Ginger. “To keep me in,” said the wild little man. “Set a thief to catch a thief, and one that never knew his place to keep the night in hers. Ah, many and many a time They’ve set me to watch her because They knew I’m up to all her tricks. But They have to coop me in, or I’d be off. On land They put a rope round me; on sea They put me up the mast.”