Chippy, Jr., at once let out a frightened cry.
“Stop! stop!” he begged. “I don’t know what the trouble is, but I feel as if I should break in two!”
“Well! well!” exclaimed Rusty Wren. And then to his wife he said: “Were you pushing or pulling?”
“Pulling!” she explained. “I was tugging on his coat-tails.”
“Ah! That was the trouble,” Rusty told poor Chippy, Jr., who looked quite distressed. “I was trying to pull you out; and she was trying to pull you in. But you mustn’t mind a little mistake like that.”
“Very well!” said Chippy, Jr., meekly. “But please don’t do it again!”
“Now——” Rusty directed his wife, so that she might understand clearly what was required of her—“now you must push while I pull.”
All their efforts, however, failed to move the unfortunate Chippy, Jr. He remained wedged tightly in the doorway. And at last Rusty declared that they might as well stop trying to get him through it.
“What you must do now,” he directed his wife, “is to pull on Chippy, Jr.’s, coat-tails, while I push against his head. And in that way we may be able to clear our doorway.”
That plan worked better. In a short time Mr. Chippy’s unlucky son suddenly slipped backward, knocking Mrs. Rusty Wren flat on her back. And Rusty himself tumbled into the house and fell on top of the heap.