"It's no use your getting your knife into me," he said as the towel was plied. "I didn't arst to come 'ere, did I?"
"No, you little thief!"
"Stow that!" said Dickie, and after a quick glance at his set lips she said, "Well, next door to, anyhow. I should be ashamed to show my face 'ere, if I was you, after last night. There, you're dry now. Cut along down to the dining-room. The servants' hall's good enough for honest people as don't break into houses."
All through that day of wonder, which included real roses that you could pick and smell and real gooseberries that you could gather and eat, as well as picture-books, a clockwork bear, a musical box, and a doll's house almost as big as a small villa, an idea kept on hammering at the other side of a locked door in Dickie's mind, and when he was in bed it got the door open and came out and looked at him. And he recognized it at once as a really useful idea.
"Markham will bring you some warm milk. Drink it up and sleep well, darling," said the lady; and with the idea very near and plain he put his arms round her neck and hugged her.
"Good-bye," he said; "you are good. I do love you." The lady went away very pleased.
When Markham came with the milk Dickie said, "You want me gone, don't you?"
Markham said she didn't care.
"Well, but how am I to get away—with my crutch?"
"Mean to say you'd cut and run if you was the same as me—about the legs, I mean?"