In a moment the child had been placed astride
the big garden roller and a preliminary tug was given to set
it in motion. From the hollow depths of the cylinder came
an earsplitting roar, drowning even the vocal efforts of the
squalling baby, and immediately afterwards there crept forth
a white-pinafored infant with a mop of tow-coloured hair
tied over one temple with a pale blue ribbon. There was no
mistaking either the features or the lung-power of the new
arrival.
``Our own little Erik,'' screamed Mrs. Momeby, pouncing on
him and nearly smothering him with kisses; ``did he hide in
the roly-poly to give us all a big fright?''
This was the obvious explanation of the child's sudden
disappearance and equally abrupt discovery. There remained,
however, the problem of the interloping baby, which now sat
whimpering on the lawn in a disfavour as chilling as its
previous popularity had been unwelcome. The Momebys glared
at it as though it had wormed its way into their short-lived
affections by heartless and unworthy pretences. Miss
Gilpet's face took on an ashen tinge as she stared
helplessly at the bunched-up figure that had been such a
gladsome sight to her eyes a few moments ago.
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