"It's lucky I saw them before they were cooked," continued Humphrey, in a tone of great solemnity; "fancy, if all the wild men had been poisoned! It would have been your fault."
"Oh, Humphie!" said little Miles, in terror, "let's throw them away."
"We'll smash them," said Humphrey; "and that'll do as well."
So they made a heap of the fungus, and stamped upon them till their shoes and stockings were covered with the nasty compound.
"What will Virginie say?" laughed Humphrey, as he looked at his legs.
"What will she say?" echoed Miles, delighted. Suddenly he stopped short. "Humphie! I never said my prayers!"
"Good gracious! No more have I."
"What shall we do? We shall have to go home. It wouldn't be right, I suppose, to say them out of doors?"
"No harm at all," said Humphrey; "let's say them under the tree."
And, suiting the action to the word, with his usual promptitude, Humphrey knelt down; but he was up again directly.