the death. You know I'm going to do a lone adventure—and some people might think it wrong—I don't. And if Mother asks where I am, say I'm playing at mines."
"What sort of mines?"
"You just say mines."
"You might tell us, Pete."
"Well, then, coal-mines. But don't you let the word pass your lips on pain of torture."
"You needn't threaten," said Bobbie, "and I do think you might let us help."
"If I find a coal-mine, you shall help cart the coal," Peter condescended to promise.
"Keep your secret if you like," said Phyllis.
"Keep it if you can," said Bobbie.
"I'll keep it, right enough," said Peter.
Between tea and supper there is an interval even in the most greedily regulated families. At this time Mother was usually writing, and Mrs. Viney had gone home.
Two nights after the dawning of Peter's idea he beckoned the girls mysteriously at the twilight hour.
"Come hither with me," he said, "and bring the Roman Chariot."
The Roman Chariot was a very old perambula-
