"I have thought of a plan for that, Chris. When either of us want a change, just shout out, 'Sister Ann, sister Ann, do you see anybody coming?'" "I see," nodded Christine, "everybody will only think we are playing a game." "Then," pursued Ridgwell, full of inspiration, "if Lal isn't looming in sight anywhere, the other will shout out, 'Not a sail in the offing,' then we change over rooms." "Anyway Lal couldn't sail, could he?" queried Christine. "You don't know how he might come," whispered Ridgwell. "He might even come in a motor car, and anyway it's only so that other people shan't understand." "It seems to me," remarked Christine logically, "that people won't understand him anyway, and less when they see him than when they don't." "It's an anxious time, isn't it, Chris?" "Very," assented Christine, "and anyhow we shall have to drop Cookie a hint, because you see her window in the kitchen looks over a part of the garden that we can't see from the drawing-room." "Of course," mused Ridgwell, "the weak spot about Cookie is that she gets shocks so quickly." "She's sure to get one to-day," commenced Christine hopefully, "when Lal comes." "Very well then, we'll give her a sort of hint," suggested Ridgwell. Now Cookie, beloved of the children, to say nothing of the household generally, was a fat person, with very red cheeks, and very good-humoured rolling green eyes that somehow always looked as if they had been originally intended for gooseberries, which had boiled and bubbled during her many cooking operations and had never been permitted to simmer. "What do you children want in the kitchen?" commenced Cookie. "Master Ridgie, you know quite well that your birthday cake ain't to be ready till tea-time." "But, Cookie dear," commenced Ridgwell insinuatingly. Cookie dear continued the mystic rights over which she presided as high priestess, her vermilion red hands and arms continued to splash about in a very big basin, where she contrived to throw up little waves of very white flour as if she were about to take a morning dip in it, yet hesitated before taking the plunge. These mysterious rites having been accomplished and the flour having as it were received a final blessing from Cookie's hands, Cookie commenced to beat up eggs. "I know you've come wheedling for something," objected Cookie, "and you ain't going to 'ave it, Master Ridgie. Why, you've only just finished your breakfast." "I don't want anything to eat," announced Ridgwell. Cookie eyes boiled and rolled ominously, whilst a sort of faint concern appeared upon the surface of them. "If you can't eat, Master Ridgie, then you must be ill and want some medicine." "No, no," hastily interposed Ridgwell, "I don't want any medicine, we only came in to ask you a question." "Well, you can't ask me any of your questions now, I'm busy," asserted Cookie. "Ain't got no time." "Oh, Cookie dear, you can listen whilst you beat up an egg," expostulated Ridgwell.