Part 29 (2/2)
Frank made a beginning on his own toilet, and then took a look at his brother, for the stillness was suspicious.
”I thought so! He told me to wake him, and I guess this will do it;”
and, filling his great sponge with water, Frank stalked into the next room and stood over the unconscious victim like a stern executioner, glad to unite business with pleasure in this agreeable manner.
A woman would have relented and tried some milder means, for when his broad shoulders and stout limbs were hidden, Jack looked very young and innocent in his sleep. Even Frank paused a moment to look at the round, rosy face, the curly eyelashes, half-open mouth, and the peaceful expression of a dreaming baby. ”I _must_ do it, or he won't be ready for breakfast,” said the Spartan brother, and down came the sponge, cold, wet, and choky, as it was briskly rubbed to and fro regardless of every obstacle.
”Come, I say! That's not fair! Leave me alone!” sputtered Jack, hitting out so vigorously that the sponge flew across the room, and Frank fell back to laugh at the indignant sufferer.
”I promised to wake you, and you believe in keeping promises, so I'm doing my best to get you up.”
”Well, you needn't pour a quart of water down a fellow's neck, and rub his nose off, need you? I'm awake, so take your old sponge and go along,” growled Jack, with one eye open and a mighty gape.
”See that you keep so, then, or I'll come and give you another sort of a rouser,” said Frank, retiring well-pleased with his success.
”I shall have one good stretch, if I like. It is strengthening to the muscles, and I'm as stiff as a board with all that football yesterday,”
murmured Jack, lying down for one delicious moment. He shut the open eye to enjoy it thoroughly, and forgot the stretch altogether, for the bed was warm, the pillow soft, and a half-finished dream still hung about his drowsy brain. Who does not know the fatal charm of that stolen moment--for once yield to it, and one is lost.
Jack was miles away ”in the twinkling of a bedpost,” and the pleasing dream seemed about to return, when a ruthless hand tore off the clothes, swept him out of bed, and he really did awake to find himself standing in the middle of his bath-pan with both windows open, and Frank about to pour a pail of water over him.
”Hold on! Yah, how cold the water is! Why, I thought I _was_ up;” and, hopping out, Jack rubbed his eyes and looked about with such a genuine surprise that Frank put down the pail, feeling that the deluge would not be needed this time.
”You are now, and I'll see that you keep so,” he said, as he stripped the bed and carried off the pillows.
”I don't care. What a jolly day!” and Jack took a little promenade to finish the rousing process.
”You'd better hurry up, or you won't get your ch.o.r.es done before breakfast. No time for a 'go as you please' now,” said Frank; and both boys laughed, for it was an old joke of theirs, and rather funny.
Going up to bed one night expecting to find Jack asleep, Frank discovered him tramping round and round the room airily attired in a towel, and so dizzy with his brisk revolutions that as his brother looked he tumbled over and lay panting like a fallen gladiator.
”What on earth are you about?”
”Playing Rowell. Walking for the belt, and I've got it too,” laughed Jack, pointing to an old gilt chandelier chain hanging on the bedpost.
”You little noodle, you'd better revolve into bed before you lose your head entirely. I never saw such a fellow for taking himself off his legs.”
”Well, if I didn't exercise, do you suppose I should be able to do that--or that?” cried Jack, turning a somersault and striking a fine att.i.tude as he came up, flattering himself that he was the model of a youthful athlete.
”You look more like a clothes-pin than a Hercules,” was the crus.h.i.+ng reply of this unsympathetic brother, and Jack meekly retired with a bad headache.
”I don't do such silly things now: I'm as broad across the shoulders as you are, and twice as strong on my pins, thanks to my gymnastics. Bet you a cent I'll be dressed first, though you have got the start,”
said Jack, knowing that Frank always had a protracted wrestle with his collar-b.u.t.tons, which gave his adversary a great advantage over him.
”Done!” answered Frank, and at it they went. A wild scramble was heard in Jack's room, and a steady tramp in the other as Frank worked away at the stiff collar and the unaccommodating b.u.t.ton till every finger ached.
A clas.h.i.+ng of boots followed, while Jack whistled ”Polly Hopkins,” and Frank declaimed in his deepest voice,
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