"Not by a long shot," he answered cheerfully. "And if he did take a drink of it, I'll wager it wasn't a very long drink. Now, Mrs. Goodrich, you and Loretta go home, and get some water heated, and fetch out a pot of mustard. I'm off with Wiggles to find the young athlete."
And that's all, Diary, except that they did find him. It was Wiggles, really, who discovered him in a deserted barn half a mile up the road, sleeping peacefully and smelling to high heaven of the gas. Home they brought him, and it must go on record that though mustard and warm water had no effect whatsoever upon that cast iron little stomach, every time Peter coughed Dr. Denton swears that the gasoline fumes nearly knocked him over!
"Did you really drink it, sweetheart?" asked his mother just before she tucked him in bed.
"Course," answered Peter, wide-eyed. "Mike said it made the cars go fast, so I tried it. I didn't like it much," he confessed, "but golly, how I ran! I wish Jimmy could have seen me!"
And on that, Peter fell asleep.
Diary, I am nearly asleep too. Won't Sarah scold if she catches me! So I will postpone till tomorrow my account of the Lawn Tea—and—the Utterly New Man imminent in our midst!
CHAPTER V
The Very Next Day
I was so tired last night, Diary, that I couldn't sleep, and Sarah blames you! She has just said, sternly, "No more writing, Miss Mavis," and vanished from the room. Out you come, from under my pillow, in lawless defiance of the mandate. For it's raining and dull, and I can't go out of doors, and so I must have something to occupy me, must I not? But isn't it perfectly wonderful that the rain should deprive me of something? For, it was only a very short time ago that rain or sunshine meant very little to me, aside from aesthetic pleasure, and shut or open windows as the case might be! Now for a description of the Lawn Fete!