“That’s on the principle that the more you eat, the hungrier you get,” said Archie.
“For goodness’ sake, make them stop with their supper, mother,” said Donald, “else they will get so hungry they can’t stand it.”
The children were deaf to all jokes, and preparations for the important day went merrily on. An excited group of small people met after supper, on the Wards’ piazza, on the night before, to “make ’rangements.” One would have thought that they were planning at least a trip to Europe.
“We girls think we won’t go to sleep at all, to-night,” said Eunice, with much importance. “We always sit up till nine o’clock, anyway, and five o’clock will come so soon that it won’t be worth while to get undressed.”
“Whatever you do,” called Donald from his hammock, “please see that Cricket is chained in bed till the proper time. She prefers to get up at midnight and go downstairs on her head, you know, when early rising is in question, and that wakes the rest of us up.”
“Phil’s going to wake me up,” announced Ray. “I’m going to tie a string to my big toe, and hang the end of the string out of the window, and Phil will come along and yank it.”
“Be sure you don’t go without us,” pleaded Daisy. “I’ll have to wake myself up, and Harry, too, for no one in our house ever gets up so early.”
“I’ll run over and wake you up, too,” said Phil, obligingly. “I’ll throw stones up at your window.”
They were all to meet at the bars at the entrance of the woods, for the cart-path through them was much shorter than the distance around by the road.
“And we’re not going to have any children,” finished Eunice, in the tone of unutterable scorn that always crushed the twins, who were eagerly listening to the “’rangements.”