Under the force of this counter-charge, Augustus Adolphus fell back.
"I—I—don't know, neither," he muttered, feebly. "I thought you knew.
You got to know, 'cause you got to do it."
The eyes of the small Russian swept the little group, and lingered on the round face of Josephine.
"You tell me," he said to her. "Then I will do it."
Josephine rose to the occasion.
"Why, why," she began, doubtfully, "I know what it is. You be a sunbeam, you know. I know what a sunbeam is. It's a little piece of the sun. It is long and bright. It comes through the window and falls on the floor. Sometimes it falls on us. Sometimes it falls on flowers."
Offered this choice, Ivan at once expressed his preference.
"I will fall on flowers," he announced, with decision.
The brown eyes of Augustus Adolphus glittered as he suddenly grasped the possibilities of the situation.
"No, you won't, neither!" he cried, excitedly. "You got to do it all! You better begin now. You can fall through that window; it's open." He indicated, as he spoke, a low French window leading from the living-room on to the broad veranda. "He's got to!" he cried, again. "'Ain't he got to?" With a unanimous cry the meeting declared that he had got to. Some of the children knew better; others did not; but all knew Augustus Adolphus Schmidtt.