ANNE OF GREEN GABLES COUNTRY 187

I stopped.

“No, he didn’t," I said decisively. “He was near the line but he wasn’t on it. Anyway, let’s start all over again.”

I parked Queen Mary, and started looking for a small, flat stone. Jean, with a resigned expression, dismounted, and sat on the side of the ditch. The girl with the shrill childish treble seemed inclined to doubt my ability to play, but the freckle-faced boy was willing.

“Go home and get on your rompers . . ., ” Jean muttered half to herself.

I eyed her severely but said nothing. After all, hopscotch can be played quite scientifically.

” I’m first!” said the girl.

“Second!”

“Third!”

The game was on. But their rules were not my rules. Isn’t it a recognized fact that you can have only two jumps after you leave the last box to step on your stone? And isn’t it necessary to step on your stone? Of course it is. They didn’t think so. The girl was quite willing to play my way, but the boy was adamant.

“You ain’t gotta step on your stone,” he observed obstinately.

“That’s right, ” Jean intervened loftily.

So we made the rules. You didn’t have to step on your stone, and you could put one foot down in your box if you wanted to, but you couldn’t change feet.

We started again.

The girl was first. Up she went . . . again and again. And now she was in the last block. Heavens! She’d get a block before we even got