Percival, Miss Purdie finds, is the more affectionate--also the more troublesome. Rollo takes his cue from Percival and acts accordingly. "You are the ringleader!" cries Miss Purdie, stabbing a forefinger at Percival on the fearful morrow of the day on which truant was played--whose morning had seen Miss Purdie running between her house and her gate like a distressed hen abandoned by her chickens; whose afternoon had seen the alarm communicated to Burdon Old Manor and to "Post Offic"; and whose evening had discovered the disconsolate return to the village of two travel-stained and weary figures. "_You_ are the ringleader in everything, and I don't know whether you ought to be more ashamed or _you_"--and she turns from the ringleader to stab her finger at the ring, as represented by Rollo--"or _you_, for allowing yourself to be led away by one so much younger." "I've told you," protests Percival, "I've told you again and again we got lost; so I should like to know what you think of that?" "_Don't_ use that _abom_-inable phrase, sir! If you hadn't gone off--tempted Rollo to go off--you wouldn't have got lost, would you?" Percival beams at her in his disarming manner. "Well, you see, we saw a fox and went after it and kept on seeing it and _then_ found we were lost; so I should like--" "_Don't_ argue. I tell you, you are the _ring_-leader!" She pauses and glares. "I should like to tell you," says the ringleader, still beaming, "about a very funny thing we saw. We saw--" "_Stand_ in the corner!" cries Miss Purdie. "_Stand_ in the corner! You are incorrigible!" and she turns to Rollo with "Geography, sir!" in a voice that causes him to tremble. III Certainly Percival is the leader. He has the instinct of leadership. It is to be noted in the carriage and in the demeanour of his vigorous young person. A sturdy way of standing he has: squarely, with his round chin up, his head thrown back, his knees always braced, his arms never hanging limply but always slightly flexed at the elbows as though alert for action, his eyes widely opened, his gaze upwards and about him with the challenging air of one who expects entertainments to arise and would be quick to greet them. He is rarely still; he is rarely silent. A brisk way of movement he has; a high young voice; a compelling laugh with a clear note of "Ha! Ha! Ha!" as though the matter that tickles him tickles him with the boniest knuckles wherever he is ticklish. He has the instinct of leadership. When he is with Rollo and an affair arises, he does not suggest a plan of action; he immediately acts. On their rambles, when an obstacle or an emergency is discovered, it instantly arouses in him a reflex action by which vigorously, and without estimate of its difficulties, it is attacked. "You are so thoughtless, Percival, so thoughtless!" Aunt Maggie cries when he explains a mired and dripping state with "I jumped the ditch and found I couldn't jump."