We'll see." That "we'll see" of Nurse Bundle's was a sort of moral soothing-syrup which she kept to allay inconvenient curiosity and over-pertinacious projects in the nursery.
I had soon reason to decide that if I had breakfast at six, luncheon would not be unacceptable at half-past ten, at about which time I lost sight of the scenery and confined my attention to a worsted workbag in which Nurse Bundle had a store of most acceptable buns.

Halting shortly after this to water the horses, a glass of milk was got for me from a wayside inn, over the door of which hung a small gate, on whose bars the following legend was painted:-- "This gate hangs well And hinders none.
Refresh and pay, And travel on." "Did you put that up ?" I inquired of the man who brought my milk.
"No, sir.

It's been there long enough," was his reply.
"What does 'hinders none' mean ?" I asked.
The man looked back, and considered the question.
"It means as it's not in the way of nothing.

It don't hinder nobody," he replied at last.
"It couldn't if it wanted to," said I; "for it doesn't reach across the road.

If it did, I suppose it would be a tollbar." "He's a rum little chap, that!" said the waiter to Nurse Bundle, when he had taken back my empty glass.