He screwed his knuckles as far into his eyes as they would go,
his mouth opened, and his lower lip dropped down, down.

"I t--t--told y--y--you a b--b--big st--st--story;" he wept,
rocking to and fro where he stood.

"Did you? Oh, all right! Now go home," she said impatiently.
"You always ARE telling stories, Bunty, you know, so I'm not
surprised. There-go along."

"But--but I'm--must tell you all ab--ab--about it," he said,
still engaged in driving his eyes into his head.

"No, you needn't; I'll forgive you this time," she said
magnanimously, "only don't do it again. Now run away at once,
or you won't have your map done, and miss Marsh will punish you."

His eyes returned to their proper position, likewise his hands.
His heart was perfectly light again as he turned to go back to the
house. When he had gone a few steps he came back.

"D'ye want that catapult very much, Meg?" he said gently.
"You're only a girl, so I don't 'spect it would be very much
good to you, would it?"

"No, I don't want it. Here, take it, and hurry back: think of
your map," Meg returned, in a very fever of impatience at his
slowness.

And then Bunty, utterly happy once more, turned and ran away gaily