'Well, p'raps she has hers at one, or even half-past twelve, like we used to, till you began going to school,' said he hopefully. 'And a very little talking would do at the first beginning. Then we could be very polite, and say we'd come again to see the parrot, and p'raps—' here Peterkin looked rather shy.
'Perhaps what? Out with it!' I said.
'We might take her a few flowers,' he answered, getting red, 'if—if we could—could get any. They're very dear to buy, I'm afraid, and we haven't any of our own. The garden is so small; it isn't like if we lived in the country,' rather dolefully.
'You wouldn't have known anything about Rock Terrace, or the invisible princess, or the parrot, if we lived in the country,' I reminded him.
'No,' said Pete, more cheerfully, 'I hadn't thought of that.'
'And—' I went on, 'I daresay I could help you a bit if it really seemed any good,' for I rather liked the idea of giving the little girl some flowers. It made it all look less babyish.
Peterkin grinned with delight.
'You are kind, Gilley!' he exclaimed. 'I knew you would be. Oh, bother! here's nurse coming, and we haven't begun to settle anything properly.'
'There's no hurry,' I said; 'you've forgotten that we certainly can't go there again till Mrs. Wylie's out of the way. And she said, "the end of the week"; that means Saturday, most likely, and this is—oh dear! I was forgetting—it's Sunday, and we'll be late.'
Nurse echoed my words as she came in—