"Well," sniffed Charlie with a crooked face, though there were no tears to give it effect, "I'm sure I didn't want to put it on. I hate to be dressed up! Something always happens to your Sunday clothes. I couldn't help tearing it, and Jimmy Earl set off a cracker right in my lap"—
"Well, I'm glad it wasn't your eyes," said Granny thankfully. And then she took the forlorn pyramid of dirt and disorder up stairs, where she had a good scrubbing, and was re-arrayed in a more decent fashion. Anybody else would have scolded, but Granny was so glad to have her back safe and sound.
Her heart was sorely anxious about Kit and Joe. She let the supper stand on the table, and they all sat on the doorstep in the moonlight; for Dot had taken a nap in the afternoon, and was bright as a new penny.
And she fancied, as many mothers and grandmothers have before now, that shocking accidents had happened, and maybe they would be maimed and crippled for life.
Presently they came straggling along, and Granny uttered a cry of relief.
"Oh!" she said, "are you all here? Haven't you lost your hands, nor your fingers, nor"—
"Nor our noses, and not even our tongues," laughed Joe. "Here we are, pistol and all."
"O Kit! where have you been? I was a most worried to death; and you look tuckered out."
For Kit was pale to ghostliness as he stood there in the moonlight.