ould have surprised
him. If I had suddenly shot up to the ceiling, and called out that I
had learnt how to fly, I don't believe he would have been startled; or
if I had shown him a purse with a piece of gold in it, and told him that
it was enchanted, and that he'd always find the money in it however
often he spent it, he'd have taken it quite seriously, and been very
pleased.

So the idea of an enchanted little girl did not strike us as at all out
of the way.

We did not talk about her any more that night after we had been at Mrs.
Wylie's, for we had to hurry up to get neat again to come down to the
drawing-room to mamma. Blanche and Elf were already there when we came
in, and they, and mamma too, were full of questions about how we'd
enjoyed ourselves, and about the parrot, and what we'd had for tea--just
as I knew they would be; I don't mean that mamma asked what we'd had for
tea, but the girls did.

And then Pete and Elf went off to bed, and when I went up he was quite
fast asleep, and if he hadn't been, I could not have spoken to him
because of my promise, you know.

He made up for it the next morning, however.

I suppose he had had an extra good night, for I felt him looking at me
long before I was at all inclined to open my eyes, or to snort for him
to know I was awake. And when at last I did--it's really no good trying
to go to sleep again when you feel there's somebody fidgeting to talk to
you--there he was, his eyes as bright and shiny as could be, sitting
bolt up with his hands round his knees, as if he'd never been asleep in
his life?

I couldn't help feeling rather cross, and yet I had a contradictory sort
of interest and almost eagerness to hear what he had to say. I suppose
it was a kind of love of adventure that made me join him in his fancies
and plans. I knew that his fancies were only fancies really, but still I
felt as if we might get some fun out of them.

He was too excited to mind my being grumpy.

'Oh, Gilley!' he exclaimed at my first snort, 'I am so glad you are
awake at last.'

'I daresay you are,' I said, 'but I'm not. I should have slept another
half-hour if you hadn't sat there staring me awake.'

'Well, you needn't talk,' he went on, in a 'smoothing-you-down' tone;
'just listen and grunt sometimes.'

I did grunt there and then. There was one comfortable thing about
Peterkin even then, and it keeps on with him now that he is getting big
and sensible. He always understands what