CHAPTER XI. THE RUNAWAY PERAMBULATOR
I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face and glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always stalked by, meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me very hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, but fear I had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, as, would I not call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which moment, it seemed, he was at his best.
No, I would not.
“ He says tick-tack to the clock,” Irene said, trying to snare me.
“ Pooh!” said I.
“ Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'” she told me, with a flush of pride.
“ I prefer 'tick-tick,'” I said, whe
