If you're not careful, you'll turn into a beastly little Sunday-school prig, so I tell you." "I don't mean to be a prig.

But it's so hard not to be when you're really trying to be good." (The Gentle Reader may perhaps have suffered from this difficulty.) "Not it," said Peter; "it's a jolly good thing it wasn't you was hurt.
I'm glad it was ME.

There! If it had been you, you'd have been lying on the sofa looking like a suffering angel and being the light of the anxious household and all that.

And I couldn't have stood it." "No, I shouldn't," said Bobbie.
"Yes, you would," said Peter.
"I tell you I shouldn't." "I tell you you would." "Oh, children," said Mother's voice at the door.

"Quarrelling again?
Already ?" "We aren't quarrelling--not really," said Peter.