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.]

The Grumpy Man

BY

MRS. HARTLEY PERKS

It was past nine on a winter's evening. Through the misty gloom a tenor
voice rang clear and resonant. The singer stood on the edge of the
pavement, guitar in hand, with upturned coat-collar, a wide-brimmed soft