her that this would not be OUR good act, but Father's,
because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had already stood us
the keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump up heavily
over the coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generous when
someone else is paying for it all the time, even if it happens to be
your father. Then three others had ideas at the same time and began to
explain what they were.

We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of a
row. Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert's uncle for opening
his door and saying--

'I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much.
But if you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek
or howl--anything to vary the monotony of your well-sustained
conversation.'

Oswald said kindly, 'We're awfully sorry. Are you busy?'

'Busy?' said Albert's uncle. 'My heroine is now hesitating on the verge
of an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequent
career. You wouldn't like her to decide in the middle of such a row that
she can't hear herself think?'

We said, 'No, we wouldn't.'

Then he said, 'If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to you
this bright mid-summer day.' So we all went out.

Then Daisy whispered to Dora--they always hang together. Daisy is not
nearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fear
the deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said--

'Daisy's idea is a game that'll take us all day. She thinks keeping out
of the way when he's making his heroine decide right would be a noble
act, and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well be
playing something at the same time.'

We all said 'Yes, but what?'

There was a silent interval.

'Speak up, Daisy, my child.' Oswald said; 'fear not to lay bare the
utmost thoughts of that faithful heart.'

Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle--they laugh right out or hold
their tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisy
said--

'If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once read
a story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had to
go how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. There
was a tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs,
and a kitten.'

This proposal left us cold, as Albert's uncle says, because we knew
there could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though yo