“Through the window and over our hedge,” said Gwen.  “Mama said that as I’d been horrid at the breakfast table I must stay in all the forenoon.  I didn’t think that was fair, because I wasn’t very horrid.  I put my foot on the table so I could tie my shoe ribbons.  Papa said, ‘Gwendolen!’ and I took it down quick.  Then I took some peanut shells from my pocket and sailed them in my cup of chocolate.  They looked like little boats.  My piece of melon had the stem on it and I said it was a music box.  I wound the stem round and round, and sung ‘Yankee Doodle.’  Mama made the waitress take me away from the table and I just howled all the way!  I don’t think I need have stayed in for such little things as that!  I didn’t stay in.  I jumped out of the window, it’s near the ground, and then, because it was the shortest way, I scrambled right over the hedge.  Horrid old thing!  It had thorns on it, and it scratched my knee.”

Polly thought her a handsome little savage.

Gwen thought that she had made an impression upon Polly.

“There was just one reason why I acted so.  Mama had guests, and she had just been telling them what a good child I was, and I thought it would be a joke to do some queer things at the table.

“I thought because she had company she wouldn’t send me away, but she did,” she concluded.

Her next remark was even more surprising than those that she had already made.

“Let’s catch bugs!” she said.

“Oh, horrid!” cried Polly, “I couldn’t do that!”

“I do,” said Gwen, “and it’s fun.  I caught two big old beetles and tied threads on them for harnesses.  Then I hitched them to a wee little paper box about an inch long and they made a good span.  They dragged it all right ’til I dumped an old fuzzy caterpillar into the box, and then they tumbled over on their backs and squirmed and kicked like everything!  If I could find one now I could show you how they kick.”

“Oh, please don’t,” said Polly quickly, “I wouldn’t like to see them wiggle.”

“Then let’s slide down your front steps,” said Gwen.  “Come on!  Slide the way I do.  I sit down on the top step and commence to slip.  When I’ve slid over three steps I turn over and slide three that way.  I get excited wondering whether I’ll tear my frock, or only bump my knees.  Sometimes it’s both, and sometimes it’s neither!”

Polly could not imagine why such antics could be amusing, and she knew that her mama would not like any such rough play.

“You don’t seem to want to,” said Gwen; “are you afraid of your clothes, or don’t you dare to risk the bumps?”

“I don’t think mama would like it,” Polly said, gently, “but I’ll play ‘Hide-and-Seek’ with you, or any game you like.”

“Oh, I don’t care for those old games,” said Gwen, “so I’ll tell you what we’ll do.  Come over to the stable and you get your coachman to let us have the horse and the cow.  You ride the horse barebacked and I’ll ride the cow.  Come on!  Don’t be a fraidie cat!”