"Well, but what then?" Oswald asked Denny. "Out with it," for he saw that his youthful friend had got an idea and couldn't get it out. You should always listen patiently to the ideas of others, no matter how silly you expect them to be. "I do wish you wouldn't hurry me so," said Denny, snapping his fingers anxiously. And we tried to be patient. "Why shouldn't we _be_ them?" Denny said at last. "He means antiquaries," said Oswald to the bewildered others. "But there's nowhere to go and nothing to do when we get there." The Dentist (so-called for short, his real name being Denis) got red and white, and drew Oswald aside to the window for a secret discussion. Oswald listened as carefully as he could, but Denny always buzzes so when he whispers. "Right oh," he remarked, when the confidings of the Dentist had got so that you could understand what he was driving at. "Though you're being shy with us now, after all we went through together in the summer, is simply skittles." Then he turned to the polite and attentive others and said-- [Illustration: OSWALD LISTENED AS CAREFULLY AS HE COULD, BUT DENNY ALWAYS BUZZES SO WHEN HE WHISPERS.] "You remember that day we went to Bexley Heath with Albert's uncle? Well, there was a house, and Albert's uncle said a clever writer lived there, and in more ancient years that chap in history--Sir Thomas What's his name; and Denny thinks he might let us be antiquaries there. It looks a ripping place from the railway." It really does. It's a fine big house, and splendid gardens, and a lawn with a sundial, and the tallest trees anywhere about here. "But what could we _do_?" said Dicky. "I don't suppose _he'd_ give _us_ tea," though such, indeed, had been our hospitable conduct to the antiquaries who came to see Albert's uncle. "Oh, I don't know," said Alice. "We might dress up for it, and wear spectacles, and we could all read papers. It would be lovely--something to fill up the Christmas holidays--the part before the wedding, I mean. Do let's." "All right, I don't mind. I suppose it would be improving," said Dora. "We should have to read a lot of history. You can settle it. I'm going to show Daisy our bridesmaids' dresses." It was, alas! too true. Albert's uncle was to be married but shortly after, and it was partly our faults, though that does not come into this story. So the two D.'s went to look at the clothes--girls like this--but Alice, who wishes she had never consented to be born a girl, stayed with us, and we had a long and earnest council about it. "One thing," said Oswald, "it can't possibly be wrong--so perhaps it won't be amusing." "Oh, Oswald!" said Alice, and she spoke rather like Dora.