“Be a good boy and I’ll come home before you go to bed! I’ll put you to bed,” she had promised. “We’ll have a regular lark!”
Hence he was out here on the door-step being a good boy. That Sheelah had taken unfair advantage of the Promise and made the being good rather a perilous undertaking, he did not appreciate. He only knew he must walk a narrow path across a long, lonely day.
There were certain things—one especial certain thing—he wanted to know, but instinct warned him not to interrupt Sheelah till her work was done, or she might call it not being good. So he waited, and while he waited he found out the special thing. An unexpected providence sent enlightenment his way, to sit down beside him on the door-step. Its other name was Daisy.
“Hullo, Murray! Is it you?” Daisy, being of the right sex, asked needless questions sometimes.
“Yes,” answered Murray, politely.
“Well, le’s play. I can stay half a hour. Le’s tag.”
“I can’t play,” rejoined Murray, caution restraining his natural desires. “I’m being good.”
I can’t play ... I’m being good
“Oh, my!” shrilled the girl child derisively. “Can’t you be good tagging? Come on.”