“That makes three shillings altogether,” as Tim cleverly explained.

“But not three shillings for each of us,” Maria qualified the

praise. “I only got one.” She took it out of her mouth and

showed it by way of proof.

“You’ll swallow it,” warned Judy, “and then you won’t have none at

all.”

If received early in the week, they reported their good fortune to

the Authorities; but if Sunday was too near, they waited. Daddy had a

queer idea of teasing sometimes. “Just in time for to-morrow’s

collection,” he would be apt to say; and though he did not really mean

it perhaps, there was a hint of threat in the suggestion that quenched

high spirits at the moment.

“You see, he takes the plate round,” Judy told them, “and so feels

ashamed.” She did not explain the feeling ashamed. It was just that

her father, who always did things thoroughly, had to say something,

and so picked on that. “Monday or Tuesday’s safest,” was her judgment.

Maria rolled her eyes round like a gigantic German doll.

“Never’s best,” she gave as her opinion.

But that was sly. The others reproved her quickly.

“Daddy likes to know,” they told her. “Monday or Tuesday’s all

right.” They agreed just to mention the matter only. There was no need

to “say a lot.”

So they liked this Colonel Stumper, C.B. They liked his “title,”

declaring that the letters stood for “Come Back,” and referring to

their owner as “Come Back Stumper.” Some day, when he was gone for

good, he was to be promoted to K.C.B., meaning “Kan’t-Come-Back.” But

they preferred him as he was, plain C.B., because they did not want to

lose him. They declared that “Companion to the Bath” was just nonsense

invented by a Radical Government. For in politics, of course, they

followed their father’s lead, and their father had distinctly stated more than once that “the policy of a Radical Government was

some-funny-word-or-other nonsense,” which statement helped them

enormously in forming their own opinions on several other topics as

well. In personal disagreements, for instance—they never

“squabbled”—the final insult was to say, “My dear, you’re as silly as

a something-or- other Radical Govunment,” for there was no answer to

this anywhere in the world.

ComeBack Stumper, therefore, though casual outsiders might never

have guessed it, was a valuable ally. He was what Mother called “a

character” as well, and if the children used this statement in praise

of him, while adopting in their carelessness a revised version, “he

has no character,” this was not ComeBack Stumper’s fault. He was also

an “extinguished soldger,” and had seen much service in foreign parts.

India with its tigers, elephants, and jungles, was in his heated

atmosphere deliciously, and his yellow tint, as of an unripe orange,

was due to something they had learned from hearsay to describe as

“curried liver trouble.” All this, and especially his dead or wooden

leg, was distinctly in his favour. ComeBack Stumper was real. Also,

he was hard and angular in appearance, short, brisk in manner, squareshouldered, and talked like a General who was bothered about something

in a battle. His opinions were most decided. His conversation

consisted of negatives, refusals and blank denials. If ComeBack

Stumper agreed with what was said, it meant that he was feeling unwell

with an attack of curried-liver-trouble. The children understood him.