The Wouldbegoods

by E. Nesbit

  THE WOULDBEGOODS

  When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we felt itwas rather good business, because we knew our being sent there wasreally only to get us out of the way for a little while, and we knewright enough that it wasn't a punishment, though Mrs. Blake said it was,because we had been punished thoroughly for taking the stuffed animalsout and making a jungle on the lawn with them, and the garden hose. Andyou cannot be punished twice for the same offence. This is the Englishlaw; at least I think so. And at any rate no one would punish you threetimes, and we had had the Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; andthe uncle had kindly explained to us that all ill-feeling between himand us was wiped out entirely by the bread and water we had endured. Andwhat with the bread and water and being prisoners, and not being able totame any mice in our prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it upthoroughly, and now we could start fair.

  I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but Ihave sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell you whatyou truly want to know. However, dull or not, here goes--because youwon't understand anything unless I tell you what the place was like.

  The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a housethere since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on having ahouse on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burned down once ortwice in ancient centuries--I don't remember which--but they alwaysbuilt a new one, and Cromwell's soldiers smashed it about, but it waspatched up again. It is a very odd house: the front door opens straightinto the dining-room, and there are red curtains and a black-and-whitemarble floor like a chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, onlyit is not secret now--only rather rickety. It is not very big, but thereis a watery moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to thefront door. Then, on the other side of the moat there is the farm, withbarns and oast-houses and stables, or things like that. And the otherway the garden lawn goes on till it comes to the church-yard. Thechurch-yard is not divided from the garden at all except by a littlegrass bank. In the front of the house there is more garden, and the bigfruit-garden is at the back.

  The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big onewith conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on the top,and he let the Moat House. And Albert's uncle took it, and my father wasto come down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, and Albert's uncle wasto live with us all the time, and he would be writing a book, and wewere not to bother him, but he would give an eye to us. I hope all thisis plain. I have said it as short as I can.

  We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see the bigbell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging to it wentright down the house, through our bedroom to the dining-room. H. O. sawthe rope and pulled it while he was washing his hands for supper, andDick and I let him, and the bell tolled solemnly. Father shouted to himnot to, and we went down to supper. But presently there were many feettrampling on the gravel, and father went out to see. When he came backhe said:

  "The whole village, or half of it, has come up to see why the bell rang.It's only rung for fire or burglars. Why can't you kids let thingsalone?"

  Albert's uncle said:

  "Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They'll do no moremischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of the thingsto be avoided in this bucolic retreat."

  So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not seemuch that night.

  But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to haveawakened in a new world, rich in surprises beyond the dreams of anybody,as it says in the quotation.

  We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was breakfast-timewe felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room we had breakfast inwas exactly like in a story--black oak panels and china in cornercupboards with glass doors. These doors were locked. There were greencurtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. After brekker my father went backto town, and Albert's uncle went too, to see publishers. We saw them tothe station, and father gave us a long list of what we weren't to do. Itbegan with "Don't pull ropes unless you're quite sure what will happenat the other end," and it finished with "For goodness' sake, try to keepout of mischief till I come down on Saturday." There were lots of otherthings in between.

  We all promised we would. And we saw them off, and waved till the trainwas quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy was tired,so Oswald carried her home on his back. When we got home she said:

  "I do like you, Oswald."

  She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be niceto her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over everything. Itwas a glorious place. You did not know where to begin.

  We were all a little tired before we found the hay-loft, but we pulledourselves together to make a fort with the trusses of hay--great squarethings--and we were having a jolly good time, all of us, when suddenly atrap-door opened and a head bobbed up with a straw in its mouth. We knewnothing about the country then, and the head really did scare usrather, though, of course, we found out directly that the feet belongingto it were standing on the bar of the loose-box underneath. The headsaid:

  "Don't you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay,that's all." And it spoke thickly because of the straw.

  It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can hardlybelieve now that once we really did not know that it spoiled hay to messabout with it. Horses don't like to eat it afterwards. Always rememberthis.

  When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we turnedthe handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got hurt, though thehead _had_ said we should cut our fingers off if we touched it.

  And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice cleandirt that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was room forhung their legs down out of the top door, and we looked down at thefarmyard, which is very slushy when you get down into it, but mostinteresting.

  Then Alice said:

  "Now we're all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for aminute, I want to have a council."

  We said, "What about?" And she said, "I'll tell you. H. O., don'twriggle so; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs."

  You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable asany one else.

  "Promise not to laugh," Alice said, getting very red, and looking atDora, who got red too.

  We did, and then she said: "Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisytoo, and we have written it down because it is easier than saying it.Shall I read it? or will you, Dora?"

  Dora said it didn't matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and thoughshe gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. This is whatshe read:

  "NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN

  "I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound mindand body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that jungle day,we thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we made our minds upto be good forever after. And we talked to Daisy about it, and she hadan idea. So we want to start a society for being good in. It is Daisy'sidea, but we think so too."

  "You know," Dora interrupted, "when people want to do good things theyalways make a society. There are thousands--there's the MissionarySociety."

  "Yes," Alice said, "and the Society for the Prevention of something orother, and the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society, and the S. P. G."

  "What's S. P. G.?" Oswald asked.

  "Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course," said Noel, whocannot always spell.

  "No, it isn't; but do let me go on."

  Alice did go on.

  "We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer andsecretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we've done. If thatdoesn't make us good it won't be my fault.

  "The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great andunselfish deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up people,and
to perform prodigies of real goodness. We wish to spread ourwings"--here Alice read very fast. She told me afterwards Daisy hadhelped her with that part, and she thought when she came to the wingsthey sounded rather silly--"to spread our wings and rise above the kindof interesting things that you ought not to do, but to do kindnesses toall, however low and mean."

  Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times.

  "Little words of kindness" (he said), "Little deeds of love, Make this earth an eagle Like the one above."

  This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle _does_have wings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls hadwritten. But there was no rest.

  "That's all," said Alice, and Daisy said:

  "Don't you think it's a good idea?"

  "That depends," Oswald answered, "who is president, and what you mean bybeing good." Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself,because being good is not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper totalk about, especially before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemedto like it, so Oswald did not say exactly what he thought, especially asit was Daisy's idea. This was true politeness.

  "I think it would be nice," Noel said, "if we made it a sort of play.Let's do the 'Pilgrim's Progress.'"

  We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to anything,because we all wanted to be Mr. Greatheart, except H. O., who wanted tobe the lions, and you could not have lions in a Society for Goodness.

  Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books aboutchildren who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he told meafterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in Sunday school,and we did not wish to be unkind.

  At last Oswald said, "Well, let's draw up the rules of the society, andchoose the president and settle the name."

  Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. She wassecretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money.

  Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these:

  RULES

  1. Every member is to be as good as possible.

  2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. (Oswaldand Dicky put that rule in.)

  3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a sufferingfellow-creature.

  4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like.

  5. We are to do good to people we don't like as often as we can.

  6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all the rest ofus.

  7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the world exceptus.

  8. The name of our Society is--

  And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora wantedit called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the Society forReformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, "No, we really were not sobad as all that." Then H. O. said, "Call it the Good Society."

  "Or the Society for Being Good In," said Daisy.

  "Or the Society of Goods," said Noel.

  "That's priggish," said Oswald; "besides, we don't know whether we shallbe so very."

  "You see," Alice explained, "we only said if we _could_ we would begood."

  "Well, then," Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the choppedhay off himself, "call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods and have donewith it."

  Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make himself alittle disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to disappointment. For everyone else clapped hands and called out, "That's the very thing!" Then thegirls went off to write out the rules, and took H. O. with them, andNoel went to write some poetry to put in the minute book. That's whatyou call the book that a society's secretary writes what it does in.Denny went with him to help. He knows a lot of poetry. I think he wentto a lady's school where they taught nothing but that. He was rather shyof us, but he took to Noel. I can't think why. Dicky and Oswald walkedround the garden and told each other what they thought of the newsociety.

  "I'm not sure we oughtn't to have put our foot down at the beginning,"Dicky said. "I don't see much in it, anyhow."

  "It pleases the girls," Oswald said, for he is a kind brother.

  "But we're not going to stand jaw, and 'words in season,' and 'lovingsisterly warnings.' I tell you what it is, Oswald, we'll have to runthis thing our way, or it'll be jolly beastly for everybody."

  Oswald saw this plainly.

  "We must do something," Dicky said; "it's very hard, though. Still,there must be _some_ interesting things that are not wrong."

  "I suppose so," Oswald said, "but being good is so much like being amuff, generally. Anyhow I'm not going to smooth the pillows of the sick,or read to the aged poor, or any rot out of _Ministering Children_."

  "No more am I," Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head had inits mouth, "but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let's begin bylooking out for something useful to do--something like mending things orcleaning them, not just showing off."

  "The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy teaand tracts."

  "Little beasts!" said Dick. "I say, let's talk about something else."And Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jollyuncomfortable.

  We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played draughtswith Daisy and the others yawned. I don't know when we've had such agloomy evening. And every one was horribly polite, and said "Please" and"Thank you," far more than requisite.

  Albert's uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us stories,but he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what blight had fallenon our young lives. Oswald could have answered and said, "It is theSociety of the Wouldbegoods that is the blight," but of course hedidn't; and Albert's uncle said no more, but he went up and kissed thegirls when they were in bed, and asked them if there was anything wrong.And they told him no, on their honor.

  "'LITTLE BEASTS,' SAID DICK"]

  The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the morningsun shone on his narrow, white bed and on the sleeping forms of his dearlittle brothers, and Denny, who had got the pillow on top of his headand was snoring like a kettle when it sings. Oswald could not rememberat first what was the matter with him, and then he remembered theWouldbegoods, and wished he hadn't. He felt at first as if there wasnothing you could do, and even hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny'shead. But he soon saw that this could not be. So he chucked his boot andcaught Denny right in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began morebrightly than he had expected.

  Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before,except that when no one was looking he polished the brass candlestick inthe girls' bedroom with one of his socks. And he might just as well havelet it alone, for the servants cleaned it again with the other things inthe morning, and he could never find the sock afterwards. There were twoservants. One of them had to be called Mrs. Pettigrew instead of Janeand Eliza like others. She was cook and managed things.

  After breakfast Albert's uncle said:

  "I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate my privacybefore 1.30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant theintrusion, and nothing short of man--or rather boy--slaughter shallavenge it."

  So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we ought toplay out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have played out ofdoors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that.

  But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald:

  "I say, come along here a minute, will you?"

  So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlor and shutthe door, and Oswald said:

  "Well, spit it out: what is it?" He knows that is vulgar, and he wouldnot have said it to any one but his own brother.

  Dicky said:

  "It's a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be."

  And Oswald was patient with him, and said:

  "What is? Don't be all day about it."

  Dicky fidgeted about
a bit, and then he said:

  "Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. Andyou know that dairy window that wouldn't open--only a little bit likethat? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whipcord and it openedwide."

  "And I suppose they didn't want it mended," said Oswald. He knows buttoo well that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things fardifferent from what we would, and you catch it if you try to dootherwise.

  "I shouldn't have minded _that_," Dicky said, "because I could easilyhave taken it all off again if they'd only said so. But the sillies wentand propped up a milk-pan against the window. They never took thetrouble to notice I had mended it. So the wretched thing pushed thewindow open all by itself directly they propped it up, and it's tumbledthrough into the moat, and they are most awfully waxy. All the men areout in the fields, and they haven't any spare milk-pans. If I were afarmer, I must say I wouldn't stick at an extra milk-pan or two.Accidents must happen sometimes. I call it mean."

  Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, firstbecause it wasn't his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing boy.

  "Never mind," he said, kindly. "Keep your tail up. We'll get the beastlymilk-pan out all right. Come on."

  He rushed hastily to the garden and gave a low signifying whistle, whichthe others know well enough to mean something extra being up.

  And when they were all gathered round him he spoke.

  "Fellow-countrymen," he said, "we're going to have a rousing good time."

  "It's nothing naughty, is it," Daisy asked, "like the last time you hadthat was rousingly good?"

  Alice said "Shish," and Oswald pretended not to hear.

  "A precious treasure," he said, "has inadvertently been laid low in themoat by one of us."

  "The rotten thing tumbled in by itself," Dicky said.

  Oswald waved his hand and said, "Anyhow, it's there. It's our duty torestore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here--we're going todrag the moat."

  Every one brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was interestingtoo. This is very uncommon.

  So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the moat.There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did not takeany till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. Mrs. Pettigrewsaid, "Law! I suppose so; you'd eat 'em anyhow, leave or no leave."

  She little knows the honorable nature of the house of Bastable. But shehas much to learn.

  The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We satthere in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny said,"How _do_ you drag moats?"

  And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times about amoat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we really had neverthought about exactly how it was done.

  "Grappling-irons are right, I believe," Denny said, "but I don't supposethey'd have any at the farm."

  And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I thinkmyself he meant some other word, but he was quite positive.

  So then we got a sheet off Oswald's bed, and we all took our shoes andstockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the bottom ofthe moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would keep floating onthe top of the water, and when we tried sewing stones into one end ofit, it stuck on something in the bottom, and when we got it up it wastorn. We were very sorry, and the sheet was in an awful mess; but thegirls said they were sure they could wash it in the basin in their room,and we thought as we had torn it any way, we might as well go on. Thatwashing never came off.

  "No human being," Noel said, "knows half the treasures hidden in thisdark tarn."

  And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work graduallyround to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. We could not seethat part very well, because of the bushes that grow between the cracksof the stones where the house goes down into the moat. And opposite thedairy window the barn goes straight down into the moat too. It is likepictures of Venice; but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow.

  We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts together ina bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying:

  "Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two,three," when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a piercingshriek and cried out:

  "Oh! it's all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle." And she was outof the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. The othergirls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in such a hurrythat we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us went right in,and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one who went right in wasonly H. O.; but Dora made an awful fuss and said it was our fault. Wetold her what we thought, and it ended in the girls going in with H. O.to change his things. We had some more gooseberries while they weregone. Dora was in an awful wax when she went away, but she is not of asullen disposition though some times hasty, and when they all came backwe saw it was all right, so we said:

  "What shall we do now?"

  Alice said, "I don't think we need drag any more. It _is_ wormy. I feltit when Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit of itselfout of the water. I saw it through the dairy window."

  "Couldn't we get it up with fish-hooks?" Noel said. But Alice explainedthat the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out.

  So then Oswald said:

  "Look here, we'll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, and wemight as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner stable thatthey don't use. You know. The one where they chop the wood."

  We got the door.

  We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is betterdescribed in books, so we knew what to do.

  We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm garden,and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so we took them.Denny had a box of tools some one had given him for his last birthday;they were rather rotten little things, but the gimlet worked all right,so we managed to make holes in the edges of the tubs and fasten themwith string under the four corners of the old door. This took us a longtime. Albert's uncle asked us at dinner what we had been playing at, andwe said it was a secret, and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished toatone for Dicky's mistake before anything more was said. The house hasno windows in the side that faces the orchard.

  The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass whenat last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach with the lastshove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and towed her back; he isnot afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of the other things that werein the bottom of that moat he would have kept his boots on. So would theothers, especially Dora, as you will see.

  At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, though notup to our full strength, because if more than four got on the water cameup too near our knees, and we feared she might founder if over-manned.

  Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that theywere, so that was all right. And as H. O. had been wet through once hewas not very keen. Alice promised Noel her best paint-brush if he'd giveup and not go, because we knew well that the voyage was fraught withdeep dangers, though the exact danger that lay in wait for us under thedairy window we never even thought of.

  So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even then,every time we moved the water swished up over the raft and hid our feet.But I must say it was a jolly decent raft.

  Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles fromthe hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the girls standtogether in the middle and hold on to each other to keep steady. Then wechristened our gallant vessel. We called it the _Richard_, after Dicky,and also after the splendid admiral who used to eat wine-glasses anddied after the Battle of the _Revenge_ in Tennyson's poetry.

  Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with thedampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to
use to dry our legsand feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and slowly and statelythe good ship moved away from shore, riding on the waves as though theywere her native element.

  We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the sameway, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we could notalways keep her in the wind's eye. That is to say, she went where we didnot want, and once she bumped her corner against the barn wall, and allthe crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid falling overboard into awatery grave. Of course then the waves swept her decks, and when we gotup again we said that we should have to change completely before tea.

  But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into portunder the dairy window, and there was the milk-pan, for whose sake wehad endured such hardships and privations, standing up on its edge quitequietly.

  The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought tohave done; but they cried out, "Oh, here it is!" and then both reachedout to get it. Any one who has pursued a naval career will see that ofcourse the raft capsized. For a moment it felt like standing on the roofof the house, and the next moment the ship stood up on end and shot thewhole crew into the dark waters.

  We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across theLadywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as good;but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if the waterhad been deep we should have.

  As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he openedthem on a horrid scene.

  Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft hadrighted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front of thehouse, where the bridge is, and Doar and Alice were rising from thedeep, with their hair all plastered over their faces--like Venus in theLatin verses.

  There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine voice,looking out of the dairy window and screaming:

  "Lord love the children!"

  It was Mrs. Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry wewere in such a situation that she would be able to get at Albert's unclebefore we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry.

  Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position, Dorastaggered a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, "Oh, my foot!oh, it's a shark! I know it is--or a crocodile!"

  The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could not seeus properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told meafterwards he never could care for that paint-brush.

  Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, whichare large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. She screamedwithout stopping. I shoved her along to where there was a ledge ofbrickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on it, then she got herfoot out of the water, still screaming.

  It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up withher foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she had put herfoot right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he did so bloodbegan to pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut it in severalspots. It was very pale blood, because her foot was wet, of course.

  She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was going tofaint, like Daisy did on the jungle day.

  Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of theleast agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, and shecouldn't have waded back anyway, and we didn't know how deep the moatmight be in other places.

  But Mrs. Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really.

  Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft andget it back, a boat's nose shot out from under a dark archway a littlefurther up under the house. It was the boathouse, and Albert's uncle hadgot the punt and took us back in it. When we had regained the dark archwhere the boat lives we had to go up the cellar stairs. Dora had to becarried.

  There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to bed--those whohad not been on the raft the same as the others, for they owned up allright, and Albert's uncle is the soul of justice.

  Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to--with otherthings.

  The worst, though, was when Dora couldn't get her shoe on, so they sentfor the doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was indeedpoor luck.

  When the doctor had gone Alice said to me:

  "It _is_ hard lines, but Dora's very jolly about it. Daisy's beentelling her about how we should all go to her with our little joys andsorrows and things, and about the sweet influence from a sick bed thatcan be felt all over the house, like in _What Katy Did_, and Dora saidshe hoped she might prove a blessing to us all while she's laid up."

  Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sort ofjaw was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn't want to havehappen.

  The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the gardenrailings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been put out there"to sweeten."

  But as Denny said, "After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes ofsomewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again."

  I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to pleaseourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no difference toour punishment when father came down. I have known this mistake occurbefore.