‘Peter! Peter, where are you?’ shouted Janet, racing up the stairs.

‘Here—in my room,’ called Peter, appearing at his door and looking very cross. ‘I’m tidying it up. Dad looked in this morning, and wanted to know if I liked living in a pigsty! He said the pigs were tidier than I am!’

‘Well—he was about right,’ said Janet, looking round the room. ‘Do you ever pick anything up when you drop it? Goodness, what’s this mess on the carpet—something stuck to it?’

‘Oh—so that’s where my nougat went!’ said Peter, scraping a sticky mess off the carpet. ‘Good thing Dad didn’t tread on that—it would have stuck to his shoe for ages!’

Janet gave a delighted chuckle. ‘You really are dreadfully untidy, Peter,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’d better tidy up your room for you before Daddy comes back again.’

‘What did you want me for?’ asked Peter, still scraping. ‘Ooh—it’s horrid, this. What a waste of a nice bar of nougat.’