"Oh, do you really mean that?" he cried. "It IS their infernal buttons that makes most of the worry!--And their prayers?--What IS the difference anyway between a morning and an evening prayer?--And this awful responsibility about cereals? And how in the world do you make sure about their necks?" "Oh those are the things I know perfectly," said the Lady. "All the nice gentle in-door things." Our Uncle Peter began to strut again. "Oh pshaw!" he said. "It's only the outdoor things that are really important,--how to climb mountains, how to stop a runaway horse,--how to smother a grass fire!" It put the Lady all in a flutter. "Oh pshaw!" said our Uncle Peter. "That's nothing!--The very first instant you hear the maddened hoofs on the pavement you place yourself thus! And THUS!--And----" The Lady tried to explain to him the difference between a morning and an evening prayer. "Now at night, of course," she explained, "everything is so very lonely that--" Our Uncle Peter didn't seem to care at all how lonely it was. "The instant you see the horses's blood-red nostrils,--JUMP!" cried our Uncle Peter. It sounded pretty muddled to me. "Personally," insisted the Lady, "I consider a rather soft sponge best for the neck." "So that with your hands clutched like a vise on either side of the mouth," cried our Uncle Peter, "you can saw up and down with all the violence at your command! Now in fighting a grass fire, it's craft, not might, that you need. In that case of course--" "Two hours if you're using a double boiler," explained the Lady, "but many people consider a rapider action more digestible, I suppose." "My dear Lady----let me finish my explanation!" said our Uncle Peter. "But I want to finish mine!" said the Lady. Our legs got pretty tired waiting for all the explanations to get un-mixed up again. It was nine o'clock before the Lady gave our Uncle Peter a cup of hot chocolate and turned him out doors. "Just like a dog," said our Uncle Peter. We heard him say it across his shoulder as he went down the steps. It made the Lady laugh a little. It was warm milk in two great blue bowls that she gave us. "Just like kittens," we thought it was! We heard the little boy's feet come thud-thud-thudding up the stairs. We heard Tiger Lily's toe-nails click-click-click along behind him. The little boy looked very full of chicken and joyfulness. So did Tiger Lily.