It was a glorious day. The old white horse strained at the ropes, the barge glided smoothly and steadily through the still water. The sky was blue overhead. Mr. Bill was as nice as anyone could possibly be. No one would have thought that he could be the same man who had held Peter by the ear. As for Mrs. Bill, she had always been nice, as Bobbie said, and so had the baby, and even Spot, who might have bitten them quite badly if he had liked. “It was simply ripping, Mother,” said Peter, when they reached home very happy, very tired, and very dirty, “right over that glorious aqueduct. And locks--you don't know what they're like. You sink into the ground and then, when you feel you're never going to stop going down, two great black gates open slowly, slowly--you go out, and there you are on the canal just like you were before.” “I know,” said Mother, “there are locks on the Thames. Father and I used to go on the river at Marlow before we were married.” “And the dear, darling, ducky baby,” said Bobbie; “it let me nurse it for ages and ages--and it WAS so good. Mother, I wish we had a baby to play with.” “And everybody was so nice to us,” said Phyllis, “everybody we met. And they say we may fish whenever we like. And Bill is going to show us the way next time he's in these parts. He says we don't know really.” “He said YOU didn't know,” said Peter; “but, Mother, he said he'd tell all the bargees up and down the canal that we were the real, right sort, and they were to treat us like good pals, as we were.” “So then I said,” Phyllis interrupted, “we'd always each wear a red ribbon when we went fishing by the canal, so they'd know it was US, and we were the real, right sort, and be nice to us!” “So you've made another lot of friends,” said Mother; “first the railway and then the canal!” “Oh, yes,” said Bobbie; “I think everyone in the world is friends if you can only get them to see you don't want to be UN-friends.” “Perhaps you're right,” said Mother; and she sighed. “Come, Chicks. It's bedtime.” “Yes,” said Phyllis. “Oh dear--and we went up there to talk about what we'd do for Perks's birthday. And we haven't talked a single thing about it!” “No more we have,” said Bobbie; “but Peter's saved Reginald Horace's life. I think that's about good enough for one evening.” “Bobbie would have saved him if I hadn't knocked her down; twice I did,” said Peter, loyally. “So would I,” said Phyllis, “if I'd known what to do.” “Yes,” said Mother, “you've saved a little child's life. I do think that's enough for one evening. Oh, my darlings, thank God YOU'RE all safe!” Chapter IX. The pride of Perks. It was breakfast-time. Mother's face was very bright as she poured the milk and ladled out the porridge. “I've sold another story, Chickies,” she said; “the one about the King of the Mussels, so there'll be buns for tea. You can go and get them as soon as they're baked. About eleven, isn't it?”