em what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This was
not sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else to
think of besides the way they hadn't stood by him in the bursting of the
secret staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk.

Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer for
a forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswald
a pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with any
man living. "And mind," he added, hiding the pang under a general-like
severeness, "I won't have any one in the expedition who has anything in
his shoes except his feet."

This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald is
often misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the pease up
at Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took some
time, because Daisy cried, and Dora said, "There now, Oswald!") there
were seven volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed,
all of us. There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, or
scrips, or anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who set
out for Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good and
deedful--at least Oswald, I know was--than ever they had been in the
days of the beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either it
was fine nearly all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, or
else nearly all the interesting things we did came on fine days.

With hearts light and gay, and no pease in any one's shoes, the walk to
Hazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, and
the dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one of
them at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridge
is not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowed
to put on her things--I mean her collar--and come with us. She walks
slowly, but we had the day before us, so there was no extra hurry.

At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn's grocer's shop and asked for
ginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised at us
wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm--it had just been
washed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B.
Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. You
cannot be too careful.

However, when we had said it was first-class ginger-beer, and paid for
it, we found it not so easy