Whilst Waiting for the Motor
BY
Madeline Oyler
Young people, read and take warning by this awful example.
Her name was Isabel, and she really was a very nice, good little girl—when she remembered. But you can't always remember, you know; you wouldn't be a little girl if you could, and this happened on one of those days when she didn't remember.
Of course Peter forgot too; but then you would expect him to, for he was only a boy, and boys, as I suppose you know, cannot use their brains in the way that girls can.
The two had spent their morning in the usual way, had breakfast, fed the rabbits, said "Good-morning" to the horses, got mother a bunch of flowers from their own gardens (Isabel's turn this morning), seen daddy off, and then had lessons.
You wouldn't have guessed for a moment that it was going to be a bad day; everything had gone well. Peter had actually remembered that Madrid was the capital of Spain, always a rather doubtful question with him; and Isabel had said her eight times with only two mistakes, and they were slight ones.
So you may imagine they were feeling very happy and good, because it was a half-holiday, and, best of all, because Auntie May was coming over with her big motor at three o'clock, to take them back to tea with grandpapa.