Joy sprang into bed and covered up her face in the clothes. Gypsy stood still and winked fast for about a minute. Then Joy heard a fall and a bubbling laugh.
"That old Tom! It's nothing but a broom-handle and a sheet. Oh, Joy, just come and see!"
After that, Joy declared she wouldn't go to the wood-shed alone, if she dressed without a fire the rest of her life. So Gypsy started with her, and they crept downstairs on tiptoe, holding their very breath in their efforts to be still, the stairs creeking at every step. Did you ever particularly want stairs to keep still, that they didn't creak like thunder-claps?
The girls managed to get into the wood-shed, fill their basket, and steal back into the kitchen without mishap. Then came the somewhat dubious undertaking of crawling upstairs in darkness that might be felt, with a heavy and decidedly uncertain load of wood.
"I'll go first and carry the basket," said Gypsy. "One can do it easier than two."
So she began to feel her way slowly up.
"It's black as Egypt! Joy, why don't you come?"
"I'm caught on something—oh!" Down fell something with an awful crash that echoed and reëchoed, and resounded through the sleeping house. It was succeeded by an utter silence.
"What is it?" breathed Gypsy, faintly.
"The clothes-horse, and every one of Patty's clean clothes!"