“I don’t think he ought to mind just a little joke like that, when he just piles jokes on other people,” went on Cricket, in an injured tone. “Look at all the things he’s done to us, and we smile at him just the same.”
The skating party was a grand success. They went out of town, on the street cars for several miles, to the lake, which was a glittering sheet of ice. The day was clear and not too cold. Everybody skated well, but Archie particularly excelled. He was up in every kind of fancy figure, and in the delight of showing off, his wounded feelings were gradually soothed—at least outwardly.
“But I’ll get even with that little minx,” he said, grimly, to himself. “She’s altogether too fresh,” forgetting, as practical jokers generally do, that he had had the first innings.
They returned home in time for half-past one luncheon, with the appetites of anacondas. No one noticed that Archie whipped into the dining-room, instead of going up-stairs with the others, when they first came in, chattering, and laughing, and glowing with exercise. In ten minutes time the luncheon-bell rang.
“Waffles! hurrah!” cried Will, boyishly, as Jane brought in his favourite dish.
“Auntie, you’re a brick!” chimed in Archie. “Miss Scricket, don’t you take all this syrup on yours, for I want some myself, and there isn’t much in the syrup jug,” and Archie peered in.
“You don’t need any, being so sweet yourself,” returned Cricket, pouring out a liberal supply of the clear, delicious-looking syrup from the jug that stood by her plate.
The next instant the family were startled by a most unmannerly gulp from Cricket, who clapped her hands over her mouth and bolted from the table without the ceremony of an “Excuse me” to mamma. Everybody looked after her in surprise; then mamma, excusing herself, hastily followed her to the butler’s pantry, whither she had retired. The sickest, forlornest-looking child imaginable held up a white face.
“It was—the—syrup,” she managed to say “It’s sour or something. Oh, I’m so sick at my stomach!”
Not waiting to investigate the matter at that moment, mamma called Sarah, who carried poor little Cricket up-stairs in her arms. A very unhappy hour followed. As soon as mamma could be spared, she flew down-stairs to the dining-room.