Explore "Peterkin" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THAT was on a Wednesday, and the same day the next week was to be _the_ day. On the Monday, as we had planned, we strolled along Rock Terrace. Luckily, it was a fine day, and we could look well about us without appearing to have any particular reason for doing so. It would have seemed rather funny if we had been holding up umbrellas, or, I should say, if _I_ had been, for when it rained Peterkin wasn't allowed to come to meet me.
We stood still in front of the parrot's house. He was out on the balcony. I wondered if he would notice us, or if he did, if he would condescend to speak to us.