Part 28 (2/2)

”Can't we play something?” suggested Isabel--”something quite clean and quiet with no running in it.”

Peter thought for some time, then he said: ”I don't believe there are any games like that.” Being a boy, you see, he couldn't think of one, so he said he didn't think there were any.

[Sidenote: Follow-my-leader]

”Yes, there are,” said Isabel, ”heaps of them, only I can't think of one. Oh, I know, follow my leader, walking, not running, and of course not on the gra.s.s. I'll be leader.”

So off they started, and great fun it was. Isabel led into such queer places--the potting-house, tool-shed, laundry, and even into the dairy once. Then it was Peter's turn, and he went through the chicken-run, stable-yard, and kitchen-garden, and then down the drive.

When he got to the gate he hesitated, then started off down the road.

”Ought we to go down here, do you think?” asked Isabel, plodding along behind him.

”Oh, yes, it's all right,” Peter said; ”we're keeping off the gra.s.s and not running, and that's all mother told us,” and on they went.

After walking for a little way, Peter turned off down a side lane, a favourite walk of theirs in summer, and Isabel followed obediently.

Unfortunately, for the last three days it had rained heavily, and the deep cart-ruts on both sides of the road were full of thick, muddy water.

In trying to walk along the top of one of them, Peter's foot slipped, and, before he could prevent it, in it went, right over the top of his nice patent-leather shoe.

Isabel, who was following close behind, intently copying her leader in all his movements, plopped hers in too.

”Goodness, what a mess!” said Peter, surveying his muddy foot. ”How awful it looks! I think I shall make the other one dirty too, then it won't look so bad.”

So in went each clean foot.

And then it was, I am sorry to say, that Isabel forgot to be good. You remember I told you that she did sometimes?

She said: ”Now that our feet are dirty, let's paddle, they can't look worse, and it's such fun!” And as Peter thought so too, paddle they did, up and down the dirty, muddy cart-ruts.

Presently Peter's white suit and even his clean tie were spotted with mud, and Isabel's beautiful little dress was soaked with muddy water all round the bottom, and, saddest of all, her new sash was dragging behind her in the water, quite spoilt; but they were so excited that they neither of them noticed how they were spoiling their clothes, or that the parcel with the shaving-tidy in it had been dropped and stamped down into the mud.

They were in the middle of the fun when suddenly they heard in the distance the ”toot-toot” of a motor-horn, and, looking at each other in dismay, they realised it must be Auntie May come to fetch them.

”We shall have to change first,” gasped Isabel, as they hurried along the road. ”I'm afraid we look rather messy!”

Peter said nothing; he was feeling too miserable.

It was a sad sight that met nurse's horrified eyes as she hurried anxiously out through the gates in search of them, having hunted the garden in vain; and it was a very shamefaced little pair that hastened by the big motor at the front door and into the hall, where they found mother and Auntie May waiting.

Isabel and Peter really did feel more sorry and ashamed than I can tell you, and, grievous though it be, mother and Auntie May went to tea with grandpapa, but Peter and Isabel went to bed!

[Sidenote: The story of a hard heart, a little child, and a kind friend.]

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