But Wednesday was fine, luckily, and this time I got off from school to the minute without any one or anything stopping me.
I ran most of the way to the corner of Lindsay Square, all the same; and I was not too early either, for before I got there I saw Master Peterkin's sturdy figure steering along towards me, not far off. And when he got up to me I saw that he had a small brown-paper parcel under his arm, neatly tied up with red string.
He was awfully pleased to see me so early, for his round face was grinning all over, and as a rule it was rather solemn.
'What's that you've got there?' I asked.
He looked surprised at my not knowing.
'Why, of course, the poetry-book,' he said. 'I promised it her, and I've marked the poetry about "Peterkin." It's the Battle of Blen—Blen-hime—mamma said, when I learnt it, that that's the right way to say it; but Miss Tucker' ('Miss Tucker' was Blanche's and the little ones' governess) 'called it Blennem, and I always have to think when I say it. I wish they didn't call him "little Peterkin," though,' he went on, 'it sounds so babyish.'
'I don't see that it matters, as it isn't about you yourself,' I said. 'I'd forgotten all about it; I think it's rather sharp of you to have remembered.'
'I couldn't never forget anything I'd promised her,' said Pete, and you might really have thought by his tone that he believed he was the prince going to visit the Sleeping Beauty—after she'd come awake, I suppose.
We did not need to hurry; we were actually rather too early, so we went on talking.
'How about the flowers we meant to get for her?' I said suddenly.