Part 5 (1/2)
It was grandfather's turn to drop into a chair. The chair was not very near so that he almost dropped on to the floor. But the twins were too miserable to laugh.
”They weren't very big,” moaned Christopher.
”That made them all the greener,” replied his grandfather grimly.
”I only ate six, grandfather,” put in Jane consolingly. ”I felt as if I'd had enough after three, but I couldn't stop there, you know.”
In spite of his anxiety grandfather laughed. Then he got up to go in search of grandmother. She appeared in the doorway just then, looking very comfortable and cool in a fresh white dress.
”Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's head is better, children, and she would like to see you up in her--” she began and stopped short.
”What is the matter with the children?” she cried, looking at them in great alarm.
”Jane ate six green apples and Kit lost count after the eighth. Is there anybody handy to send for the doctor?”
Grandmother looked dismayed, but faced the situation bravely.
”A drink of hot peppermint water will fix them, I think,” she said. ”And if that doesn't castor oil will. Dr. Greene has been called to Westside to take charge of a typhoid fever case and won't be back to-night.”
After the children had been put to bed with warm, soothing drinks, and had had hot milk toast for supper, sitting up in bed with their wrappers on to eat it, Christopher suddenly bethought himself of grandfather's good news.
”He never told us what it was!” he wailed to Jane.
”I wonder how he guessed about the apples so soon?” speculated Jane in reply. ”I've played in the orchard 'most every day. I guess it was because you were playing with me.”
”Mean-y! Trying to put the blame on me! It was because you looked so queer and yellow, like biscuit dough.”
”I didn't look any yellower than you. And I didn't double up and howl, so there,” retorted Jane, indignantly.
Christopher was silenced for a moment by this home-thrust. Then he called triumphantly:
”I had a right to look yellower than you, 'cause I ate more apples. And I think I know what the good news is. The circus is comin' day after to-morrow. I heard grandfather tell Mrs. Hartwell-Jones so.”
”Oh, Kit, how fine! Wouldn't you just love to go?”
”We are going. Grandfather said we might when I first asked him.”
”Yes, I know, but perhaps he'll change his mind now and not let us go, to punish us for being naughty about the apples.”
”But he promised! He'll have to keep his word.”
”He didn't really promise. He just said he'd see.”
”Well, that means the same. He meant yes.”
”Then I wonder what he will do to punish us?”
”Nothing. He'll forgive us. Grandfathers are different from fathers about that.”
”But we've been naughty and deserve to be punished.”
”Well, isn't it punishment enough, I'd like to know, to be put to bed in broad daylight?” demanded Christopher, tossing impatiently.