Page:Comin' Thro' the Rye (1898).djvu/71

Rh I take a last look out of the window preparatory to jumping into bed, my attention is arrested by the extraordinary appearance presented by the hedge that lies on the other side of the road, which appears to be animated with what might be a row of uneven trees swaying to and fro, if, on this stirless night, there were wind enough to stir anything.

It is growing dark, and in the uncertain light it is difficult to pronounce distinctly on the phenomona; but I, nevertheless, come to the conclusion that the bobbing objects are hats, hats which may be reasonably supposed to have human beings inside them. Burglars! I say to myself promptly, and descend to Jack's room, which overlooks the back garden, not the front. He is not in bed, so returns with me, and surveying the enemy with some interest, squashes my theory by saying, "Burglars? Why, you little sawney, burglars hide, they don't hop up and down like Jacks-in-the-box; besides, there are too many of 'em!"

All at once a light breaks in upon me. I have surreptitiously read two or three words which have given me some small insight into the imbecile practices of courtships, and now I am able to put two and two together, while Jack, poor lad, is completely at sea.

"I know!" I say, nodding my head violently, "I know! it's lovers!"

Lovers!" repeats Jack, quite unimpressed, and in a most scornfully contemptuous voice: "how exactly like a girl with her silly notions! Who do you suppose they'd come after, miss; you?"

"No; but there is Tabitha, you know, and Balaam's Ass" (Balaam's Ass is our under nursemaid, whose obstinacy is so incurable that years ago we gave her the above name, which has stuck to her).

"Very likely either of them would get a lover, is it not?" asks