“Good Lord, Lob!” cried Wolf. “Where did you get that sentence? Have you been composing that speech ever since we left?”

“Look here, Sis,” declared the boy, standing in front of her with the air of a robber-chief. “You’ve got to fork out! You’ve got to give threepence to I, or never no more will I take your word!”

But the girl’s tone was now the self-composed, elder sister’s tone.

“I hope you only took one egg, Lob; like I always tell you to.”

“I won,” he repeated obstinately. “I won; so you pays.”

“Show me the egg,” said Gerda. “Where is it? I hope it wasn’t the only one. Have you blown it without making that silly big hole you always make? Show it to me, Lob!”