pered, leaning close to him as she
fumbled with the big knot under the settle; "but if you only knew how
sick you made me feel."

"You've made ME feel pretty sick, I can tell you," Peter rejoined. Then
he shook off the loose cords, and stood up.

"I looked in," said Dr. Forrest, "to see if one of you would come along
to the surgery. There are some things that your Mother will want at
once, and I've given my man a day off to go and see the circus; will you
come, Peter?"

Peter went without a word or a look to his sisters.

The two walked in silence up to the gate that led from the Three
Chimneys field to the road. Then Peter said:--

"Let me carry your bag. I say, it is heavy--what's in it?"

"Oh, knives and lancets and different instruments for hurting people.
And the ether bottle. I had to give him ether, you know--the agony was
so intense."

Peter was silent.

"Tell me all about how you found that chap," said Dr. Forrest.

Peter told. And then Dr. Forrest told him stories of brave rescues; he
was a most interesting man to talk to, as Peter had often remarked.

Then in the surgery Peter had a better chance than he had ever had of
examining the Doctor's balance, and his microscope, and his scales and
measuring glasses. When all the things were ready that Peter was to take
back, the Doctor said suddenly:--

"You'll excuse my shoving my oar in, won't you? But I should like to say
something to you."

"Now for a rowing," thought Peter, who had been wondering how it was
that he had escaped one.

"Something scientific," added the Doctor.

"Yes," said Peter, fiddling with the fossil ammonite that the Doctor
used for a paper-weight.

"Well then, you see. Boys and girls are only little men and women. And
WE are much harder and hardier than they are--" (Peter liked the "we."
Perhaps the Doctor had known he would.)--"and much stronger, and things
that hurt THEM don't hurt US. You know you mustn't hit a girl--"

"I should think not, indeed," muttered Peter, indignantly.

"Not even if she's your own sister. That's because girls are so much
softer and weaker than we are; they have to be, you know," he added,
"because if they weren't, it wouldn't be nice for the babies. And that's
why all the animals are so good to the mother animals. They never fight
them, you know."

"I know," said Peter, interested; "two buck rabbits will fight all day
if you let them, but they won't hurt a doe."

"No; and quite wild beasts