"You'd no business to do it. You gave us such a fright—didn't he, Jock?
And you mustn't have any more leg-ache. We've got to hurry home now,
as fast as ever we can. And—mind, Artie—you needn't say anything to
anybody about us coming here. Not unless you're asked outright."
"Needn't I?"
"Not unless you want to get Sis punished. You don't want that, do you?"
Artie smiled still more broadly.
"'Course I don't."
"Well, then, you can just say we've had lots of fun, playing about.
That's quite perfectly true, and you needn't say any more. If we get
back in time for tea, we shan't be asked, most likely. Everybody will
only just think we've been in the fields."
Mousie, of course, knew she was doing wrongly. She knew she had no
business to lead her little brother into deceit. But she resolutely
turned her mind from this side of the question, as she pulled him up
and they set off at a brisk pace homeward. Jock on one side and Mousie
on the other side helped Artie's slower movements. Once Mousie, who
kept silence most of the way, looked anxiously at Jock, and said—
"You won't tell?"
"No," came promptly.
"If you do, I shall get a black conduct-mark. And it will be my very
first this year. And I've tried so awfully hard not to have one. I do
want so awfully much to get Mr. Royle's prize in June. And I shouldn't
have a chance—not one wee-est little scrap of a chance. I don't want
the second-best prize. I want the best. Do—do—promise faithfully you
won't tell. Please, dear, darling Jock."
"I've said I won't." Jock spoke gruffly, for he saw difficulties ahead.
"All the same, you might have told me what you meant to do, not got me
to go like this. It wasn't fair."
"Why, you wanted it every bit as much as me—you know you did."
"Yes, I daresay—after you'd made me want. I didn't before. And you
never said one word about not getting leave—nor going out of bounds—not
one word."
"You might have guessed," retorted Mousie, nose in air. "If I'd got
leave, of course I wouldn't have had to make you promise. And—that
wouldn't have been any fun—either."
Jock walked sturdily on in silence, and Mousie studied his looks with
troubled eyes.
"I don't think you'd got any right—" he said at length.
"But you'll forgive me, Jock darling—won't you? And you'll belong to
me—just the same—won't you?"
"I—dunno. I'll—see."
The corners of Mousie's mouth went down in dismal curves, but Jock
would discuss the question no further.
By dint of racing the small boy out of breath and off his legs, they
arrived in good time. The bell which summoned them to tea had not begun
to sound when Mousie and Artie reached their back-garden, and Jock
quitted them there, tearing at his best pace for home.
Aunt Judith had been away all the afternoon, and no one had missed him.
No particular questions were asked as to what he had done, but Jock
could not feel happy. He had never been used to hide things from his
mother, and it did not seem right now. He was at a loss what to do.