“I doesn’t want anyone to take care of me,” objected Kenneth. “I sink I’m a big man, mamma.”
But his mamma kissed him, and told him that even big men minded their sisters; and then she and auntie betook themselves to the darkened depths of their own rooms, and the coolness of cambric wrappers.
The hot hours went by. The children played contentedly for a time, then they grew tired of everything, and a little cross, too, for they were really worn out by the heat.
At last, the whole flock of six sat in a disconsolate row along the broad stone fence that surrounded the grounds. Kenneth fretted for something to do, and the twins teased each other.
“If only these children weren’t here,” said Eunice, somewhat crossly, “we might do something.”
“There’s never any fun with children round,” answered Hilda, severely.
“I don’t like to be here anyway,” whined Zaidee. “I wish nurse would come.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Cricket. “I hear something,” as the heavy rumble of wheels was heard. The children watched the bend of the road with interest. Anything that passed was of the greatest importance in the present want of amusement.
“It’s Thomas, with the oxen,” cried Eunice. “Let’s make him take us, too—oh, bother! these children.”
The heavy team lumbered in sight, drawn by big, black oxen. Old Thomas was plodding along by their side, occasionally cracking the long lash of his goad around their patient heads. Will and Archie stood in the cart.