"Oh, Bobbie, you shouldn't say that!" cried Jerry, reprovingly; "it's very impolite. Aunt Lucy would be quite horrified!"
"Well, I don't mean anything rude," said Bobbie. "I do like them, and I can't help it. I can't see why it's any more rude than if I said I liked guinea-pigs."
CHAPTER II.
The next day was a very wet one; and Aunt Lucy, coming up into the schoolroom in the morning—as she invariably did, even during the holidays—saw a most extraordinary collection of baskets standing on the floor, in front of a small fire of sticks blazing away in the fireplace.
There was a large covered market basket, a fish bag with a skewer through the top, and a small japanese basket, with a lid which was kept in place by the poker and tongs laid carefully over it.
The baskets were all occasionally agitated from within; and Aunt Lucy found on enquiry that they contained the guinea-pig family, who having been flooded out of their usual quarters by the rain, had been brought in to a fire by Bobbie to be dried!
"I really object to these animals in the house!" said Aunt Lucy, trying to be severe; but Bobbie's face was so pathetic, she did not order them to be taken out at once, as she had at first intended.
"As soon as they are dry you must move them away, Bobbie," she continued; "I have had quite enough trouble with Jack's. I can't have the house turned into a menagerie."
"Really, Aunt Lucy, you needn't mind Habbakuk and Funnel—they are so very well behaved. I have been debillerating whether I ought to bring in Pompey, because his hair streams out—but he did look so cold and mis'rable, I thought you wouldn't objec'."