Bobbie was his lieutenant, his band of trusty robbers, and, in due course, the parent of Phyllis, who was the captured maiden for whom a magnificent ransom—in horse-beans—was unhesitatingly paid.
They all went down to tea flushed and joyous as any mountain brigands.
But when Phyllis was going to add jam to her bread and butter, Mother said:—
"Jam or butter, dear—not jam and butter. We can't afford that sort of reckless luxury nowadays."
Phyllis finished the slice of bread and butter in silence, and followed it up by bread and jam. Peter mingled weak tea and thought.
After tea they went back to the attic and he said to his sisters:—
"I have an idea."
"What's that?" they asked politely.
"I shan't tell you," was Peter's unexpected rejoinder.
"Oh, very well," said Bobbie; and Phil said, "Don't, then."
"Girls," said Peter, "are always so hasty tempered."
"I should like to know what boys are," said
