"NO, no, not Artie. Not for anything," shrieked Mousie. "Stay where you
are, Artie. You're too small—ever so much too small. I don't believe
Jock can do it either."
Jock not do what a girl could do! She could not have said anything more
certain to bring him after her. "Of course I can," he shouted.
"Well, mind you take care. Stay where you are, Artie boy."
Artie obeyed, glad to rest his fat little legs, and Jock scrambled with
some difficulty up the rough and sloping trunk. A few seconds more and
he too sat astride the big low-curving bough. Then, following Mousie's
lead, he wriggled along it, till they both were over the water, the
bough swaying to and fro.
"Oh-h-h—" Jock breathed in a tone, half of rapture, half of uneasiness.
"Oh—I say—Mousie—I say—"
"Hold tight. Isn't it fun? Let's make it swing more."
"Mousie—don't." Jock clutched the bough.
"Well—I won't. Dad said it was ever so deep just here. Yes, he brought
us—one day. And he said—" Mousie's voice trailed into silence.
"Did he say you—wasn't to come?"
"Yes—'course he did." Mousie's tone was defiant. "And I wanted to
come—most frightfully. So we're here. And I'm glad. I'm most awfully
glad. It's such fun."
"You didn't ask if we might?"
"No, I didn't ask—nothing nor nobody. I knew they'd all say No. And I
didn't want to have a No. I wanted to bring you, and I just—went and
did it. So there!"