r in his life seen people in a boat do so
many queer and unnecessary things in so short a time as those two
mice did. They would stop rowing every few minutes and begin sweeping
out the floor of their boat with a small broom, dusting seats,
cushions, and oar-locks with a little feather duster tied with a pink
ribbon. Then, after a few, rapid, nervous strokes at the oars, one or
the other of them would pull his blade out of the water and polish it
anxiously with his handkerchief, as if the important thing was to keep
it dry. They would probably never have reached land that day if this
had depended on their own efforts, but luckily the breeze was blowing
them in the right direction.

All this time the False Hare had been waiting on the rock, and now as
the boat was almost within reach, he began leaping up and down,
clapping his paws and calling out in the heartiest tones: "Go it, my
dear old Salts! Hurrah, my fine Jack Tars! You're a pair of swell old
sea-dogs, you are. Only don't _hurt_ yourselves, you know. We wouldn't
like to see you _work_!"

It seemed as if the white mice knew the False Hare and the value of
his remarks, for they made no attempt to answer him, but only looked
more and more frightened and uncomfortable. When their boat was at
last beached, they jumped out of it, turned their backs to the rest of
the party, and standing as close together as they could get, gazed
anxiously out over the water. Seen close by there was something
familiar about the look of these mice to the three children, yes, even
though they _had_ grown a great deal, and had disguised themselves by
the simple method of licking the chocolate off each other! Rudolf and
Ann hoped Peter would not notice it, but nothing of the sort ever
escaped him. He walked around in front of the two mice, who tried
vainly not to meet his eye, looked at them long and earnestly, and
said:

"I say, Mr. Mouses, was you always white?"

The mice turned a pale greenish color in their embarrassment and
looked nervously at each other, but answered never a word.

"I thought," continued Peter, staring steadily at them, "that last
time I saw you you was choc'late. Did you wash it off--on purpose?" he
added sternly.

"Excuse me, sir, we don't believe in washing," muttered one of the
poor things hastily.

Ann shook her head at Peter. "Hush!" she whispered. "You mustn't be
rude to them when they are going to lend us their boat so kindly."
Then she asked in a lo