Ward and Artie “came to” with a jerk and grasped the rope. Fred continued to lower the table gently, paying out the rope carefully, until he felt it touch the barn floor.
“All right!” he said glumly. “And small thanks to you boys. If it hadn’t been for the girls, we would have had one smashed table.”
Ward and Artie were eager to make up for their lapse, and they offered to carry the table into the house alone.
“We’ll get everything downstairs first,” Fred decreed. “Then all we’ll have to do will be to carry the stuff in.”
“Somebody ought to beat the rug,” said Margy. “Mother always beats her rugs when she moves them, even if it’s only from one room to another.”
No one seemed very anxious to do any rug-beating, though Ward offered to “shake it out of the window.”
“A good housekeeper doesn’t shake rugs out of the window,” said Polly. “I’ll clean the rug myself.”
“Well, housework is girls’ work, anyway,” said Ward, placidly.
“I won’t clean the rug!” retorted Polly. “Mother has a man come and beat her rugs—so there.”
“The rug is clean, so stop fussing,” commanded Fred. “We haven’t used it much. I’ll get a broom and sweep it off and it will be all right.”