"Now, then," he said, and lay down on the settle, groaning most grievously.
"Not so loud!" said Bobbie, beginning to wind the ropes round him and the settle. "You pull, Phil."
"Not so tight," moaned Peter. "You'll break my other leg."
Bobbie worked on in silence, winding more and more rope round him.
"That's enough," said Peter. "I can't move at all. Oh, my poor leg!" He groaned again.
"Sure you can't move?" asked Bobbie, in a rather strange tone.
"Quite sure," replied Peter. "Shall we play it's bleeding freely or not?" he asked cheerfully.
"You can play what you like," said Bobbie, sternly, folding her arms and looking down at him where he lay all wound round and round with cord. "Phil and I are going away. And we shan't untie you till you promise never never to talk to us about blood and wounds unless we say you may. Come, Phil!"
"You beast," said Peter, writhing. "I'll never promise, never. I'll yell, and Mother will come."
"Do," said Bobbie, "and tell her why we tied you up! Come on, Phil. No, I'm not a beast
