"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden produce she had collected. "How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically. "Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and his instasting dleams." "Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was Mophez in the bulrushes, and he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez." "How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams? Why _shouldn't_ he have dleams same as Jophez?" "It doesn't say so." "It doesn't say he _didn't_ have dleams. He _had_ dleams, I tell you; I know he had. Muts nicer dleams van Jophez." "Let's ask Meg; she'll know." Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had not noticed her, and Meg had a fertile mind. The wheelbarrows were trundled across the lawn and paused in front of Meg, while a lively duet demanded simultaneously: {"_Did_ little Mophez have dleams?" {"_Didn't_ deah littoo Mophez have dleams?" When Meg had disentangled the questions and each child sat down in a wheelbarrow at her feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's nothing said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; but I should think it's quite likely the poor baby did have dreams." "What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves and sings, wasn't they?" "I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, "that he dreamed he must cry very quietly lest the Egyptians should hear him." "Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?" Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy for her to invent "dleams" for "deah littoo Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the flags at the river's edge. And, wholly regardless of geography, she transported him to the Amber, where the flags were almost in bloom at that moment, such local colour adding much to the realism of her stories. Presently William grew restless. He ran to Anthony's Venetian gate in the yew hedge and squealed (William never whined) to get out. Tony let him out, and he fled down the drive to meet his master, who had come a good half-hour too soon for tea. Jan continued to try and finish her letters while Captain Middleton, coatless, on all-fours, enacted an elephant which the children rode in turn. When he had completely ruined the knees of his trousers he arose and declared it was time to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush," and it so happened that once or twice he played it hand-in-hand with Meg. Jan left her letters and went out. The situation puzzled her. She feared for Meg's peace of mind, for Captain Middleton was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found herself fearing for his. After tea and more games with the children Captain Middleton escorted his hostess to church, where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat. During church Jan found herself wondering uneasily: "Was everybody going to fall in love with Meg?" "Would Peter?" "What a disagreeable idea!" And yet, why should it be?