"There then, go!" said nurse somewhat crossly, as Barbe began to stamp; and she went. Her education was proceeding apace. Her father sometimes listened aghast at the things which, in her baby prattle, she reported herself to have done. "See, Barbe, there's a rat!" Sandy said eagerly, as a flop and a splash made them jump. "See, it's swimmin' away." "'Wimmin' away," said the baby, stooping to look, her two hands on her two knees, and the front of her frock sailing on the water before her. "Oh, Barbe, you're all wet!" David said, as they landed, and strolled up the field. "Wet!" she echoed delightedly. "Foots--f'ock!" "You'll have to be dried." "I know," said Sandy cheerfully; "we'll dry you by the Bishop's fire--almost sure to be a fire." But the study window, to which they crept warily by sheltered ways, was shut. The Bishop was absent. "Now what's to be done?" said David. "I know where there's a fire," Sandy said. "Was this morning, 'cos of that lead. Let's take her to the little room." Again they slipped by leafy ways out of the Palace garden into the cathedral yard. The baby's wet skirts flopped round her, and David lifted her into his arms. The approach of Mrs. Lytchett, returning from the Deanery in unwonted bravery of attire, prompted them to seek refuge behind a tomb. Here it took the boys' whole attention to prevent Barbe's chatter drawing unwished-for notice upon them. "Hush! Barbe, don't call!" entreated Sandy. "Barbedie good girl," announced the baby in a loud voice, lifting herself on tip-toe to see the passer-by. Mrs. Lytchett's ears were good, and, besides, she felt certain at this point that her eyes had seen something fluttering. She stepped off the pathway, and examined a tomb near. "Hush!--sh--sh!" cautioned David, holding up his finger to his mouth--a movement which so pleased Barbe that she proceeded to copy it. Mrs. Lytchett passed on; the danger was over. David lifted up the baby and carried her into a little octagon room near by, built in the wall of the cathedral, and used frequently as a workroom or office. Here the boys were at home. It was the head-quarters of their greatest friends--the masons engaged on the renovations always in progress at the cathedral. In the grate were the slowly dying embers of a fire, and the room was empty. "Mr. Galton ain't locked up yet, knowed he wouldn't," said Sandy. "He likes his tea punctual--'spects it's time. Now, Barbe, come an' get done." Whilst David was holding the baby to the fire, Sandy disappeared, presently returning with an excited face. "They've nearly done," he said. "It's prime up there. Seems to me, we'd best settle as soon as possible." "This baby won't get dry," said David, gloomily. "Just look at her!" "I know," said Sandy, regarding the bedraggled Barbe. "We'll take it off an' leave it here. An' I'll fetch her somefink. Sure to be somefink stored in Margie's basket--know Orme made holes in himself last week."