“Come, John, don’t lie there and screech in that fashion.”
“Don’t you like my singing, Mother?”
“Not that, it was horrible; and people can hear you away down the road.”
It seemed rather pleasant to John, that his singing should be heard so far.
“Get up now,” said Mother.
Happening to see his new paint-box with its enticing cakes of paint of all colors, Johnny Blossom in his night gown and bare feet was soon wholly absorbed in mixing paint.
There was Mother at the door again.
“Why, John! Are you standing there in your night gown painting?”
“Just see this beautiful color I have made, Mother,” exclaimed John, exhibiting a muddy yellow mixture as the result of his efforts. Mother did not seem much impressed with the new yellow color.
“Wash yourself thoroughly,” she said. Oh, yes! That was what Mother always said. John showed her two red ears he had scrubbed, but she wasn’t satisfied. Oh, dear! How many bothersome crinkles and crannies there were in an ear, anyway!