March had come and the last snow still lay on the land when thus invited
Tom joined John and Leila in the stable-yard. "Let's play tag," cried
Leila. Tom was ready.
"Here's a stick." They took hold of it in turn. Tom's hand came out on top. "I'm tagger. Look out!" he cried.
They played the game. At last he caught Leila, and crying out, "You're tagged," seized her boy-cap and threw it up on to the steep slope of the stable roof.
"Oh! that's not fair," cried the girl. "You are a rude boy. Now you've got to get it."
"No, indeed. Get the stable-man to get it."
She turned to John, "Please to get it."
"How can I?" he said.
"Go up inside—there's a trap door. You can slide down the snow and get it."
"But I might fall."
"There's your chance," said Tom grinning. John stood, still irresolute.
Leila walked away into the stable.