Part 62 (1/2)

Van and Percy, just as well pleased, ran hither and yon, very much excited.

”What shall we do to show her we are glad she's coming?” asked Percy, who seized every chance that offered itself to celebrate such events.

”Why, she'll see it,” said Joel, pounding away l.u.s.tily. He was mending his tennis racket. ”Whickets! I 'most split that”--holding it up ruefully.

”Mrs. Fisher told you not to say that,” cried Van, who dearly loved to bring Joel up for correction.

”Well, I didn't mean--” Joel whirled around on him, ”And I guess you'd say it if you'd 'most split your racket, so!”

”She told you not to,” repeated Van, knowing his power in holding to that simple statement.

”Well, I didn't mean to, I tell you,” cried Joel loudly, and very red in the face.

”And she won't like it,” said Van, delighted to see the effect of his words.

Joel's face worked, and he flung the broken racket across the room. It fell with a crash; and he ran over to the bed, hopped into the middle of it, and buried his face in his brown hands, his shoulders in distress.

”I didn't mean--go away,” he screamed, kicking as hard as he could.

Van, terribly frightened at the storm he had raised, stood perfectly still in the middle of the room.

”There, now, I hope you're satisfied,” said Percy, from the other side.

”See what you've done. I guess you'll catch it, Van Whitney,” he added pleasantly.

Van, not so much worried over what he would catch as terrified about Joel, ran over to his brother.

”Oh, do stop him,” he implored, seizing Percy's hand.

”I can't stop him,” said Percy; ”you know yourself it's silly to ask me that.”

”I must, then,” cried Van, scurrying over to the foot of the bed. ”Joel, do stop,” he begged frantically.

”Go away!” screamed Joel, kicking l.u.s.tily. ”I didn't mean to say it. Oh, dear me! Mamsie--Mamsie!” he blubbered, rolling from side to side on the neat, white bed.

”I guess he's going to have a fit,” said Percy cheerfully, coming up to view matters at a safe distance from the flying feet.

At this, Van's distress knew no bounds, and, regardless of all possible danger to himself, he ran around the bed and flung himself upon it, to burrow close to Joel's stubby black head.

”Joe, don't,” he cried, bursting into tears and hugging him with both frantic arms.

Joel wriggled and screamed, ”Go away!” and kicked more than ever, but Van held on st.u.r.dily, and together the two boys rolled over and over across the bed, back and forth, till their breath gave out.

”Oh, just look what you are doing,” exclaimed Percy, prancing up and down the room. He had started two or three times to run out and call Mrs.

Fisher; then thought better of it. ”You've mussed the bedspread all up; and only look at those shams!”--hanging over the footboard in extreme dismay.

Hearing these last words, both boys rolled apart and thrust up their heads, to gaze at the details in question. There they were, spick and span as usual at the top, but the lower parts were all mussed and wrinkled, while the lace at one end hung down in a small tag.

”Oh, dear me!” cried Joel, huddling up to Van, to throw his arm around his neck, ”just see what I've done!”

”Oh, you didn't do it; I did,” said Van, giving Joel an affectionate squeeze. ”It was all my fault.”