HOW PHILIP SULLIVAN DID AN ERRAND.
By Mary Densel.
BANG, bang, bang! went Philip Sullivan’s hammer, as he pounded on his sled “Chain Lightning.” “Chain Lightning” had needed mending ever since last winter, but Phil had concluded not to touch it till “just before the snow came.”
“Never do to-day what you can put off until to-morrow.”
The consequence was that the north wind suddenly puffed up a midnight storm, and Master Phil was awakened one morning by the shouts of the six Dyke boys, who were coasting merrily down “Sullivan Hill.”
Phil was out of bed in a twinkling. Ten o’clock found him still working fiercely on “Chain Lightning,” his glue-pot simmering before the fire in company with his father’s best chisel and his mother’s machine oil-can.
The shouts of the Dyke boys still resounded; and not only their jubilation but that of forty more coasters drove Phil nearly frantic.
With all his might Phil worked on, and “Chain Lightning” was beginning to look as if it might hold its own even among newer sleds, when the door leading into the library opened softly, and fair-haired Rosabel, Phil’s sister, appeared on the threshold. At the same moment an opposite door flew open with a jerk, and there stood Rosabel “done in sepia,” as it were; little brown Kate, Rosabel’s twin-sister.