Edith Nesbit

him by the ear—and said sternly:—

"Now, then, what do you mean by it? Don't you know these 'ere waters is preserved? You ain't no right catching fish 'ere—not to say nothing of your precious cheek."

Peter was always proud afterwards when he remembered that, with the Bargee's furious fingers tightening on his ear, the Bargee's crimson countenance close to his own, the Bargee's hot breath on his neck, he had the courage to speak the truth.

"I WASN'T catching fish," said Peter.

"That's not YOUR fault, I'll be bound," said the man, giving Peter's ear a twist—not a hard one—but still a twist

about him except his jersey. He's only fainted. What on earth are we to do?"

"Can we move him?" asked Bobbie.

"I don't know; he's a big chap."

"Suppose we bathe his forehead with water. No, I know we haven't any, but milk's just as wet. There's a whole bottle."

"Yes," said Peter, "and they rub people's hands, I believe."

"They burn feathers, I know," said Phyllis.

"What's the good of saying that when we haven't any feathers?"

"As it happens," said Phyllis, in a tone of exasperated triumph, "I've got a shuttlecock in my pocket. So there!"

And now Peter rubbed the hands of the red-jerseyed one

and the youngest was Phyllis, who meant extremely well.

Mother did not spend all her time in paying dull calls to dull ladies, and sitting dully at home waiting for dull ladies to pay calls to her.

and a Mother Goose wall-paper

The other presents were full of charm, but the Engine was fuller of charm than any of the others were.

The others said he cried over it—but of course boys of ten do not cry, however terrible the tragedies may be which darken their lot.

He said that his eyes were red because he had a cold. This turned out to be true, though Peter did not know it was when he said it,

Peter, with heroic unselfishness, did not say anything about his Engine till after Father had had his dinner

The unselfishness was Mother's idea—but it was Peter who carried it out. And needed a good deal of patience, too.