"Well I think myself he might be able to break her of the trick," admitted Winnie. "Shirley thinks a heap of him and yet she's a little afraid of him too. But I'm like you, Rosemary—I hate to bother him just now. He's worried about that hospital case and last night he was called out twice."
"Could we tie Shirley to a tree?" asked Rosemary hopefully.
"She's too big for that," Winnie advised her. "Sarah was only three years old when that was tried. Shirley would untie the knots or cut the rope or get someone to unloose her. No, we'll have to keep a good watch on her and trust to making her see she's doing wrong. You can reason with Shirley, if she is only six years old."
"Oh dear," sighed Rosemary, quite worn out with her experiences, "I never knew it was so hard to bring up children!"
"Biggest job in the world," Winnie said shortly. "Mothers never rest and their work is never done."
The next morning Rosemary coaxed Sarah to play paper dolls with Shirley on the porch while she practised and she went to her music with a clear conscience. For an hour the scales and trills sounded and wound up with a grand march for good measure. Stepping out on the porch Rosemary found it deserted, the paper dolls scattered on the rug, the box overturned where the children had left it.
"Shirley!" cried Rosemary. "Sarah!"
"I'm cleaning the rabbit house," shouted Sarah, and Rosemary hurried around to the side yard.
"Where's Shirley?" she demanded anxiously.
"Shirley? Isn't she on the porch?" Sarah's dirt-streaked face peered through the wire netting which surrounded her pets.