"They should have got married," said Felix.

"Well, in a book they would have, but you see this was in real
life," said the Story Girl. "We sometimes act the story out. I
like it when Peter plays the poet. I don't like it when Dan is
the poet because he is so freckled and screws his eyes up so
tight. But you can hardly ever coax Peter to be the poet--except
when Felicity is Edith--and Dan is so obliging that way."

"What is Peter like?" I asked.

"Peter is splendid. His mother lives on the Markdale road and
washes for a living. Peter's father ran away and left them when
Peter was only three years old. He has never come back, and they
don't know whether he is alive or dead. Isn't that a nice way to
behave to your family? Peter has worked for his board ever since
he was six. Uncle Roger sends him to school, and pays him wages
in summer. We all like Peter, except Felicity."

"I like Peter well enough in his place," said Felicity primly,
"but you make far too much of him, mother says. He is only a
hired boy, and he hasn't been well brought up, and hasn't much
education. I don't think you should make such an equal of him as
you do."

Laughter rippled over the Story Girl's face as shadow waves go
over ripe wheat before a wind.

"Peter is a real gentleman, and he is more interesting than YOU
could ever be, if you were brought up and educated for a hundred