dark outside, save for a small hand-lamp that stood on the floor at the further end of the veranda. From what looked like a long bundle of clothes beside it came a deep and sonorous snoring. It was evidently the foundation-stone of the British Constitution in India. I regarded it with some awe.
'It's generally very stupid, and it scarcely ever understands what you say to it, and its oftenest asleep,' laughed Berengaria, as she turned to bid me a final good night, 'but it's quite useful in its own way, and you're quite safe as long as you can hear it snore near by.'
And with a wave of the hand amidst a flutter of rose-pink silk dressing-gown Berengaria disappeared from sight. Nothing but Aunt Agatha's maxims had kept me from falling on her neck, and imploring her not to leave me.
I stood in the doorway—one of the eighteen—looking at the foundation-stone of the British Constitution in India. I can't truthfully say that the sight was calculated to inspire one with much confidence, but anyway I felt that it was something to fall back upon as a last resort in case of need. I was congratulating myself on that at least when something happened. I saw a kind of movement coming from somewhere very much inside the bundle. It was like the struggling of a cat in a bag. The snoring ceased. I hid behind the half-open door, and watched breathlessly. I had never yet seen the foundation-stone of the British Constitution in India, and my curiosity was great.
