"
"Why not?" I asked, and, as he did not answer, I again saw a vision of
two little forms wedged in the pipes.
"That _why_ was 'cause _I_ was in behind, and I _wouldn't_ back, and so
Dick couldn't," said Ian. "You see, Barbara, I really, truly had to be a
mole and get very far away, not to stay, only just for fun, you know," he
added, as he saw signs of tears in his brother's eyes, and began to feel
the smarting in his own bruised knees.
One blessed thing about Ian, even though he is sometimes passionate and
stubborn, and will probably have lots of trouble with himself by and by,
there isn't a drop of sneaky cur blood in him, which is the only trait
that need make a mother tremble.
What should I do, punish, or act as I longed to, coddle the boys and
comfort the poor knees? True, I had not forbidden them to crawl through
the sewer pipes, because the idea of their doing it had never occurred to
me, so they could not be said to have exactly disobeyed; but, on the
other hand, there was an unwritten law that they must not go off the
place without my permission, and the torn stockings furnished a hint.
"Mother is going away for all day with grandfather," I said slowly, as I
examined their knees. "Even though I never told you not to do it, if you
had stopped to think, you would have known it was wrong to crawl through
the pipes."
"But, Barbara," argued Ian, as we reached the porch, "it wasn't us that
crawled, it was moles, and they just digs right ahead and turns up the
ground and flowers and everything, and never thinks things, do they,
grandpop?"
"Martha will take you in," I said, steadying my voice with difficulty,
"and bathe your knees and let you rest a while before she dresses you
again.
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