“Joe Anderson and Albert Holmes,” piped out Ward.
“Well, we’ll see if we can sort them out,” said Mr. Williamson, who seemed to understand.
He grasped a kicking leg and Mr. Marley caught a waving arm. As for Mr. Larue, he took a whole handful of spots, and that proved to be most of Joe Anderson.
As soon as the boys stopped twisting and turning, they found they were not so badly mixed as they had thought. They climbed out of their wrappings, a little the worse for wear, but not much.
“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” growled Joe Anderson.
“The hose twisted,” explained Fred, with a grin. “Bet you were scared.”
“My mother will be as mad—as mad—as anything!” sputtered Albert Holmes. “She told me not to take her sheets and pillow case, and now look at them!”
Alas, for Mrs. Holmes’ good sheet and linen pillow case—they were covered with dirt and torn in many places.
“Next time,” said Fred, significantly, “don’t come to a party you’re not invited to.”
“I don’t think that’s called for, Fred,” said his father, quietly. “Go on back into the house and have your fun there. If you think you’ll be likely to rouse the neighborhood again, one of us will stay, too; otherwise we’d like to go back and finish our own party.”