Phil says he thinks it is a great pity when the May isn't out till
June, because you can't go Maying if there isn't any May, and it's so
stupid to go Maying in June. Phil is eleven months and fourteen days
younger than I am, and his birthday is on the fourteenth of February
and mine is on the first of March; so for fourteen days we are the
same age, and when it's Leap Year we are the same age for fifteen
days.
I don't understand _why_ it should be a day more some years and not
others, but mother says we shall learn about it by-and-by. Phil says
he will like learning all that, but I don't think I shall, because I
like playing better.
Phil and I have a little dog of our own, and he belongs between us.
His name is Dash. He came from the Home for Lost Dogs, and we didn't
know his name, so Phil and I sat on the grass, and we called him by
every name we could think of, until Phil thought of Dash, and when
Dash heard that name he jumped up, and ran to Phil, and licked his
face. We don't know what kind of dog he is, and father called him a
'terrier spaniel;' but he laughed as he said it, and so we're not
quite sure that he wasn't in fun. But it doesn't matter what kind of
dog Dash is, because we are all fond of him, and if you're fond of any
one if doesn't matter what they're like, or if they have a pretty
name.
Dash goes out with us when we take a walk, and I'm sure he knew
yesterday when we went out without leave, because we wanted to go
Maying. There's a beautiful hedge full of May blossoms down the lane
and across the meadow, and we _did_ want some May very badly. So Phil
and I went without asking mother, and Dash went with us.
We found the place quite easily, and had pulled down several boughs of
it, when we heard a gruff voice calling to us, and the farmer came up,
asking what we were doing to _his_ hedge.
I said, "Please, we didn't know it was yours, and we want some May
very much, because to-morrow's the first of June, you know, and Phil
says we can't go Maying then."
The farmer didn't say any thing until he caught sight of Dash, and
then he called out, angrily,--"If that dog gets among my chickens, I
shall have him shot!"
We were so frightened at that, that we ran away; and Dash ran too, as
if he understood what the farmer said. We didn't stop for any May
blossoms though we had picked them, and we did want them so, because
of its being the thirty-first of May.
Phil said the farmer was calling after us, but we only ran the faster,
for fear he should shoot Dash. When we got home, mother met us in the
porch, and asked where we had been; then we told her all about the
farmer, and how we wanted to go Maying while we could.
She laughed a little, but presently she looked quite grave, and
said,--"I'm very glad to find you have told me the whole truth,
because if you had not I should still have known it. Farmer Grey has
been here, and he told me about your having gone across his meadow
that he is keeping for hay. He has brought you all the May you left
behind, and he says you may have some more if you want it, only you
must not walk through the long grass, but go round the meadow by the
little side-path. He said he was afraid he had frightened you, and he
was sorry."
Phil and I had a splendid Maying after that. We made wreaths for
ourselves, and one for Dash, only we couldn't get him to wear his,
which was a pity.
But the best of all is that mother says she can always trust us,
because we told the truth at once; and Phil and I think we would
rather never go Maying any more (though we like it so much) than not
tell her every thing. I'm sure it's a very good plan, and we mean to
do it _always_, even when we're quite grown up. Mother laughs at that,
and says,--"You will have your secrets then;" but Phil and I don't
think we shall, because it couldn't be a really nice secret if we
mightn't tell mother.