"Stow that!" said Dickie, and after a quick glance at his set lips she said, "Well, next door to, anyhow. I should be ashamed to show my face 'ere, if I was you, after last night. There, you're dry now. Cut along down to the dining-room. The servants' hall's good enough for honest people as don't break into houses." All through that day of wonder, which included real roses that you could pick and smell and real gooseberries that you could gather and eat, as well as picture-books, a clockwork bear, a musical box, and a doll's house almost as big as a small villa, an idea kept on hammering at the other side of a locked door in Dickie's mind, and when he was in bed it got the door open and came out and looked at him. And he recognized it at once as a really useful idea. "Markham will bring you some warm milk. Drink it up and sleep well, darling," said the lady; and with the idea very near and plain he put his arms round her neck and hugged her. "Good-bye," he said; "you _are_ good. I do love you." The lady went away very pleased. When Markham came with the milk Dickie said, "You want me gone, don't you?" Markham said she didn't care. "Well, but how am I to get away--with my crutch?" "Mean to say you'd cut and run if you was the same as me--about the legs, I mean?" "Yes," said Dickie. "And not nick anything?" "Not a bloomin' thing," said he. "Well," said Markham, "you've got a spirit, I will say that." "You see," said Dickie, "I wants to get back to farver." "Bless the child," said Markham, quite affected by this. "Why don't you help me get out? Once I was outside the park I'd do all right." "Much as my place is worth," said Markham; "don't you say another word getting me into trouble." But Dickie said a good many other words, and fell asleep quite satisfied with the last words that had fallen from Markham. These words were: "We'll see." It was only just daylight when Markham woke him. She dressed him hurriedly, and carried him and his crutch down the back stairs and into that very butler's pantry through whose window he had crept at the bidding of the red-haired man. No one else seemed to be about. "Now," she said, "the gardener he has got a few hampers ready--fruit and flowers and the like--and he drives 'em to the station 'fore any one's up. They'd only go to waste if 'e wasn't to sell 'em. See? An' he's a particular friend of mine; and he won't mind an extry hamper more or less. So out with you. Joe," she whispered, "you there?" Joe, outside, whispered that he was. And Markham lifted Dickie to the window. As she did so she kissed him. "Cheer-oh, old chap!" she said. "I'm sorry I was so short. An' you do want to get out of it, don't you?" "No error," said Dickie; "an' I'll never split about him selling the vegetables and things." "You're too sharp to live," Markham declared; and next moment he was through the window, and Joe was laying him in a long hamper half-filled with straw that stood waiting.