“I got it for—for—for——” the detected Conspirator stammered, trying her best to put on the assassin-expression that she had been practising at the looking-glass. “For——” “For _what_, Madam!” “Well, for eighteenpence, if you _must_ know, dearest! That’s what I got it for, on my——” “Now _don’t_ say your Word and Honour!” groaned the other Conspirator. “Why, they aren’t worth half the money, put together!” “On my _birthday_,” my Lady concluded in a meek whisper. “One _must_ have a dagger, you know. It’s part of the——” “Oh, don’t talk of Conspiracies!” her husband savagely interrupted, as he tossed the dagger into the cupboard. “You know about as much how to manage a Conspiracy as if you were a chicken. Why, the first thing is to get a disguise. Now, just look at this!” And with pardonable pride he fitted on the cap and bells, and the rest of the Fool’s dress, and winked at her, and put his tongue in his cheek. “Is _that_ the sort of thing, now?” he demanded. My Lady’s eyes flashed with all a Conspirator’s enthusiasm. “The very thing!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “You do look, oh, such a _perfect_ Fool!” The Fool smiled a doubtful smile. He was not quite clear whether it was a compliment or not, to express it so plainly. “You mean a Jester? Yes, that’s what I intended. And what do you think _your_ disguise is to be?” And he proceeded to unfold the parcel, the lady watching him in rapture. “Oh, how lovely!” she cried, when at last the dress was unfolded. “What a _splendid_ disguise! An Esquimaux peasant-woman!” “An Esquimaux peasant, indeed!” growled the other. “Here, put it on, and look at yourself in the glass. Why, it’s a _Bear_, ca’n’t you use your eyes?” He checked himself suddenly, as a harsh voice yelled through the room “He looked again, and found it was A Bear without a Head!” But it was only the Gardener, singing under the open window. The Vice-Warden stole on tip-toe to the window, and closed it noiselessly, before he ventured to go on. “Yes, Lovey, a _Bear_: but not without a _head_, I hope! You’re the Bear, and me the Keeper. And if any one knows us, they’ll have sharp eyes, that’s all!” “I shall have to practise the steps a bit,” my Lady said, looking out through the Bear’s mouth: “one ca’n’t help being rather human just at first, you know. And of course you’ll say ‘Come up, Bruin!’, won’t you?” “Yes, of course,” replied the Keeper, laying hold of the chain, that hung from the Bear’s collar, with one hand, while with the other he cracked a little whip. “Now go round the room in a sort of a dancing attitude. Very good, my dear, very good. Come up, Bruin! Come up, I say!” [Illustration: ‘COME UP, BRUIN!’] He roared out the last words for the benefit of Uggug, who had just come into the room, and was now standing, with his hands spread out, and eyes and mouth wide open, the very picture of stupid amazement. “Oh, my!” was all he could gasp out.