Never mind, Allyn, sister will come in a few minutes and put your nightie on. Oh, Babe, I wish you'd hurry and put away these dishes."
But Babe, baptismally known as Phebe, was engaged in tickling Allyn's toes, with the praiseworthy intention of making him kick the harder. Accordingly, she was deaf to the voice of Theodora, who was forced to put away the cups herself. She did it with a bumping impatience, grumbling the while.
"I do wish that everlasting old Susan would wash these things. The idea of my being tied to a dish-pan, all my days, and Babe never will help a bit! It's not fair." She set down a cup with a protesting whack which threatened to wreck its handle.
"Oh, Teddy?" Hubert called, from the next room.
"Well?" Her face cleared, as it always did at the voice of her twin brother.
"Drop something?"
"No. Wish I had. I'd like to throw this dish-pan into the street."
"'Most through?"
"Never shall be. Do put Allyn down and come to help me."
He settled the child, book and all, in a corner of the old haircloth sofa which ran across the end of the room, and, with his hands in his pockets, he sauntered into the china closet and sat down on the little step-ladder that stood there, ready to lead to an ascent to the upper shelves.